Yellow River
by GStales
Summary: Kitty leaves Dodge City to marry Will Stambridge. When Kitty needs Matt's help will he come?
1. Chapter 1

Yellow River

Gstales (heidi) not for profit, no rights to the characters other than the ones I've created.

Chapter One

It had been just over two years since Kitty Russell had moved away from Dodge City, Kansas. Will Stambridge had left on the stage one day and she had followed him on the next. The couple had planned it that way, so it would be less painful for Matt Dillon. For she knew it would break his heart to see her leave town with another man.

It had been hard on Dillon, although he would never have admitted it. She had tried to explain her feelings and the reasons for leaving, but they hadn't made any sense to the lawman who had some how convinced himself things were perfect the way they were.

She had said, "All I'm asking is for you to tell me to say `no' to Will Stambridge."

His reply had been a very stoic, "This is your decision. I have no ties on you, you are your own woman."

She had been hoping against hope he would tell her not to go, hoping that she mattered more to him than the damn badge. The realization that she didn't hardened her heart. Lifting her chin, she squared her shoulders in that defiant way she had. Still she hesitated, studying him for a moment longer. Finally admitting defeat she opened the door, "Thank you for all the good years, Matt." She said just before she walked out of his life.

He was left alone, with nothing - nothing to show for eighteen years of wearing a badge, and nothing to show for eighteen years of loving a woman. Standing he walked to the window, and watched her cross the street from behind the curtain's shadows. His eyes staring unblinkingly as she walked away from him. Each step she took became like a physical pain. A heavy burden took the place of his heart. His future dimmed without her in it.

It was a month or so later that the Long Branch was reopened under new management. It again took its rightful place as the goingest saloon in town. But, Matt Dillon stayed away. It was too hard for him to go there. It was too hard to face the ghosts of all of his memories. He did his drinking alone, in his office after he had made his final rounds. This had always been their time. Now, it was the time his heart felt most deserted. The whiskey never quite eased the pain, but the dulling made it bearable. In the dark, when the drink had done its work he would think of Kitty. He recalled all the times she had left before, and all the times she had come back. She would come back again. It was the thought of that reunion that gave him hope.

His friends worried about him. "I just wish there was something I could do fer him Doc." Festus said.

"I know how you feel Festus, but this is something he needs to work through on his own."

Newly O'Brien reminded of his own period of mourning nodded his head. "Doc's right Festus, there's nothing we can do to help the Marshal, except to be a friend."

Word came to them that Kitty and Stambridge had married and bought a ranch in Yellow River, Colorado. It was that final news that made Dillon ultimately accept the fact that she was gone from him for good. She belonged to someone else now. He decided he needed time alone. There had been some trouble near the Mexican border, and this provided an excuse to get away from Dodge. He stayed away longer than needed. There was nothing left to pull him back. He spent cold nights staring up at an endless sky thinking about his life and the decisions he had made along the way. When he returned to Dodge City, he had resigned himself to her loss.

Matt Dillon forced himself to resume a normal routine. The hardest part was going back to the Long Branch. Old habits die hard, and he never walked through those saloon doors without scanning the room forher presence. There were still ghosts to haunt him, but now he embraced them. He relished their closeness.

There was a pretty saloon girl by the name of Reba. The woman had always had designs on Dillon, even when Kitty was around. Now her flirting became bolder, and one cold fall night, after one whiskey too many, Dillon followed her up the stairs. In the dark, he was able to fool himself. He pictured Kitty's face and Kitty's body and when he climaxed he wanted to cry out her name. But he didn't.

In an effort to help him forget, his friends stopped mentioning Kitty's name to him, and it sometimes seemed as though she had never existed to anyone but him.

It was late in May, when the letter came from a Dr. Tucker in Yellow River, Colorado. It sat at the bottom of the stack of mail Festus had retrieved from the Post Office. Returning to his office from a breakfast with Doc at Delmonicos, Dillon poured himself a cup o fcoffee and tried to get down to business, ignoring the bickering going on between his twoold friends. The sun had long dried the last ofthe winter's snows, and the catfish were biting in Silver Creek. Festus and Adams were discussing the chances of getting away from Dodge for an afternoon of fishing and arguing about the best fishing hole.

Dillon picked up the pile on his desk and flipped through the mail, looking for some wanted posters he'd been expecting form Hayes. The return address on the last envelope caught his eye. Yellow River, Colorado it said. His heart beat a little harder and his lips turned dry. Ignoring the banter going on between Doc and Festus, Dillon picked up the envelope and sat down at his desk. With nervous fingers, he opened it. The script was unfamiliar but not the subject,

Dear Marshal Dillon,

I am writing this letter on behalf of Mrs. William Stambridge. There has been trouble, and she is in need of a friend. I believe you to be that friend.

Let me preface my concerns by explaining that this is a wild country without law and order. Men here take it upon themselves to make their own rules. The Stambridge land has become the object of a battle over water rights. Stambridge was prevailed upon to sell his land and when he refused, violence erupted. Mr. and Mrs. Stambridge were ambushed . Stambridge was mortally wounded. His wife is recovering physically from her injuries. She has remained firm in her resolve not to sell the land. I fear that she will come to greater harm. I am hoping you may be able to convince her to leave.

Sincerely,

Wilhelm Tucker, MD

He had read the letter twice trying to absorb the meaning. Kitty needed him. She needed him. The banter between Festus and Doc stopped as they took noticed the look on Matt's face.

"What's wrong Matthew? You look like you done seen a ghost."

"What is it Matt?" Adams asked.

He handed the letter to the old physician; but didn't wait for him to finish reading before barking out orders, "Festus, you'll have to look afterthings for a while, I've got some business to attend to in Colorado." he swallowed and grimaced, "Tell Festus what it says, would you Doc?"

"We'll be coming with you!" Adams answered.

Dillon shook his head. "Not this time Doc." He grabbed his hat and left the office, unable to face the questions from his friends, knowing it was harder still to face the answers. His first instinct was to set out for Colorado immediately. Now that he knew she was in trouble no power on earth could keep him from her. Common sense warned him it would be wiser to wait for the morning West bound train.

He had an acute need to be alone. The feelings he'd worked so hard to suppress for the past two years suddenly were alive. Without a word to Hank at the stable he saddled up the buckskin and turned his head north toward Silver Creek. It was a clear stretch of road, and it was here that he dug his spurs into Bucks flanks, urging the horse to a hard gallop. He pressed his weight into the stirrups, and using his hat he slapped it hard against the horse's rump. The gelding's powerful legs propelled them at ever increasing speed. The wind burned Dillon's eyes and made tears form that blurred his vision.

By train, Yellow River was nearly a day's journey away. For a man of action like Matt Dillon it was certainly too long a period of time to ponder his past and the choices he'd made. He vaguely wondered what he would say to her and he practiced a number of different openings he might use. "It's been a long time." "You're looking good." "Folks back in Dodge have missed you." His words were inadequate, he knew, but he'd never known just how to express his deepest feeling to her. He was aman of action, the passion of his love making should have told her all she needed to know. A life lesson he'd learned at the hand of solitude and loneliness, a woman needed more than passionate nights to feel truly loved. A woman needed commitment and that was one thing he'd never been able to fully give.

He stood alone with carpet bag in hand scanning the town. Yellow River was located in the heart of Colorado cattle country. Nestled in theYellow River valley, it stood in the shadows of the rugged peaks of the Rockies. Like so many other cattle towns, it was raw and alive and reminded Dillon of Dodge in the early years. The tinny echo of piano music could be heard from the dance halls and saloons that lined the street near the depot. Cattle filled the stock yards nearby waiting to be shipped out. Cowboys rode roughshod down the street, "hoo-rahing and ya-hooing". But signs of change could be seen as well. A church steeple rose above the roof tops, and a school could be seen on the hill.

"Excuse me, Are you Matt Dillon?" Matt turned to the direction of the friendly voice. It belonged to a stocky middle-aged man wearing a threadbare brown suit.

"I'm Dillon." he replied.

"Good, I was hoping you'd be on this train, it was just a guess of course. I figured you'd have gotten the letter, and this would be the next train out of Dodge." He held out his hand to the lawman. "Forgive me for babbling. I'm Dr Wilhelm Tucker, although most folks here about call me Doctor Bill."

Matt took the hand giving it a firm shake, as the two men sized each other up.

"I'm sure you could do with some good hot food. I'd be pleased to have you join my wife and me for our noon meal. I'd like to explain the circumstances regarding Mrs. Stambridge and her property, as well as her medical condition." He pointed to a black buggy beside the train station.

The doctor's home was on the outskirts of the town, not far from the church and school. It was a frame house painted a barn red, and trimmed in white. Lace curtains decorated its windows. The smell of roasted chicken and apple pie welcomed Matt's senses as he stood on the porch while Doctor Bill opened the front door.

"Mama." He called to his wife, "we're here." Tucker turned to his visitor. "Mama always likes a little warning before I bring the guests in!" His smile was indulgent, as he opened the door wider and ushered his company in. Mrs. Tucker was short and round, with cheeks that were rosy from the heat of the kitchen. Her pleasant face welcomed Matt. "My goodness, I hope you're hungry, I've roasted a nice fat bird. Come on in boys, don't be shy now, Marshal."

Matt smiled in spite of himself. The doctor's wife reminded him of Ma Smalley, she was a born mother hen.

Mrs. Tucker took away the dessert plates and poured a little more coffee for the men, before retreating to her kitchen.

"Now then." the doctor began, "Let me explain to you about the problems at the Stambridge ranch." He reached for his pipe and carefully filled it. Matt waited, growing impatient with the Doctor's unhurried movements. Finally the pipe was filled and lit. Tucker continued. "Law doesn't have much power in this part of the country, you might say that money and land determine the law around here. That being the case, the chief law enforcer would be one Harland Scharpf. He owns the largest spread, calls it the Double Bar X, and his brand is on more cattle than in all of your State of Kansas, I'd wager. He's wanted to get his hands on Yellow River Ranch for as long as I've been around here. An old timer named Argus Gallagher was the original owner of the ranch. Scharpf's old man caused Gallagher a passel of grief. Harland came back to Colorado after his pa died, maybe eight, nine years ago,since then he made it his business to make life miserable for Gallagher. Last year Gallagher sold out to Stambridge at rock bottom price. The place needed a lot of work. Gallagher had built a big fancy house for his wife, but after she died, he didn't seem to care to keep it up. When he bought the place, Will knew he had his work cut out for him, but I don't think he realized what kind of trouble lay ahead.

"Dr Tucker, what makes that land so valuable to Scharpf?" Matt interrupted.

"Why, it's the Yellow River! It flows through the property. Its streams and tributaries are the life-blood of the small farmers and ranchers in the area. Scharpf's plan was to divert the river, shutting off the streams, so that the farmers would be forced to sellout to him. Stambridge refused to sell; in fact he set out to organize his neighbors in a fight against Scharpf and his wicked tactics. For a while it seemed that he was making headway. But then Scharpf decided to play dirty. He made threats, and carried most oft hem out, things like stolen cattle, barns set afire, and ranch hands being bought off. The thing is, no one can prove that it was Scharpf's men who ambushed the Stambridges that day. And even if they could prove it, there's no law to carry it out."

He ran a nervous tongue over his lips before asking, "How badly was Mrs. Stambridge hurt? How is she now?"

The doctor winced and twitched his head. "You know, she kept to herself when they moved here. I only saw her a few times before all of this. Mighty fine lady though, I'd say. She suffered a concussion from a head wound, looked to be just a flesh wound, nothing too serious. But the curious thing about it is she lost her memory. She doesn't remember anything about her past." He scratched his head, and took a puff on the pipe. "But she refuses to sell out to Scharpf, says it's all she has to tell her who she is, and it's all she has of her husband. If it was important enough for him to fight and die for, then she figures it's important enough for her to fight and die for."

Matt stood up, he stretched his spine, and pushed his hands in his front pockets. "How did you know that I was her friend?"

"About two months back she was taken with a bad fever. She was pretty sick, let me tell you. It was touch and go for about twenty-fourhours. When the fever had her, she talked some, and it was you that she talked about."

The doctor's eyes bore into Dillon's for a brief moment forcing the lawman to look away. Matt turned his back to the doctor. "Will she get her memory back?" He finally asked.

"It's hard to say. Seems to me that there are some things she doesn't want to remember. Those are the things that are keeping her from remembering it all. Of course there could be some physical damage that I can't diagnose. I've heard of these cases where the victim never does remember. Other times it just lasts for a short period of time. The thing is, from what I've read, you can't rush it. Otherwise you might cause more harm than good. You just have got to let the memory come back on its own."

Matt nodded his understanding. "I'd like to ride out to the Stambridge ranch and see her now."

"Fine, as long as you realize what's at stake Marshal Dillon."

"I realized, Doctor Bill, I realize."

By buggy, it was a ten-mile trip to the ranch on Yellow River. The slow pace of Tucker's mare was getting on Matt Dillon's nerves. He could walk faster than the elderly animal could trot. He stretched a leg outside of the vehicle, trying to ease a cramp caused by the tight boundaries of the doctor's two-wheeled gig. Without doubt he would have preferred to be on horseback, knowing he could cover the distance in a quarter the time. But, in truth, his agitation had little to do with his companion or conveyance but more with his need to be with Kitty again.

"I want you to keep in mind Mr. Dillon, folks with head injuries sometimes act and talk in a way they'd never have considered appropriate before the injury. I've found them to be more impulsive, more emotional. What they say and do doesn't seem to be tempered by the same reasoning as before they were hurt."

"You're saying Kitty won't recognize me, and I may not recognize her either."

"Oh, I don't reckon you'll have any trouble on that account, what I am saying is don't be surprised if she says or does something you might have expected her to think twice about before she was hurt."

They were halfway there when they saw two riders approaching from the opposite direction. Dillon felt Doc Bill's elbow in his ribs. "That's them," he whispered as the riders neared.

"Who?" Dillon asked.

He kept his voice low and Dillon had to lean down to hear his words, "Harland Scharpf, and that's his hatchet man riding beside him. His name is Elliott Hoppe. If I had to make a bet, I'd wager he was the one that killed Stambridge. You just let me do the talking here." The doctor advised.

Scharpf pulled his horse to a stop in front of the buggy and his sidekick did the same, "Is someone sick down the road Doctor?" He asked. The black gelding he rode was a thoroughbred; the tack was English. The gentleman was dressed like an eastern dude in a fine broadcloth suit with an embroidered pink silk vest underneath. He was tall and well built with classically handsome features. A waxed moustache curled over his upper lip. His voice reflected a Boston education. "Could it be the beautiful Mrs. Stambridge you're calling on? I just paid a visit to the dear good lady. Poor thing, itappears she still can't remember her past, or the tragic accident that took her husband's life. What a shame."

There was a hard edge to the doctor's voice, "I don't call what happened to her husband an accident and you'd be well advised to leave her be."

Scharpf offered a charming smile showing a flash of perfect teeth, "She's a lovely woman, beautiful, spirited, passionate, awoman like that needs a man, you know what I'm saying Doctor? She NEEDS a man." He turned to Dillon, as if just noticing him in thebuggy. "Who's your friend Doctor Tucker?"

Scharpf set Matt's jaw on edge. It took a good deal of Dillon's willpower not to jump out of the carriage, pull him off his horse and beat the living daylights out of him. "The name's … Smith, Matthew Smith," Dillon replied pinning an alias to his name, knowing even this far from Kansas there were some folks who might recognize the name Matt Dillon

In direct contrast to Harland Scharpf's immaculate appearance, Elliott Hoppe was dressed in black shirt and pants; his clothing caked by a layer of trail dust. His grizzled beard served proof he hadn't come in contact with a shave for at least a week. He fingered the colt 45 strapped around his waist, while narrowing his eyes at Dillon. It was a look the gunman had perfected, meant to intimidate and bully. Rarely had Hoppe experienced it being used back at him as Matt did now. Clearing his throat, he turned away from the stranger and back to the doctor, "Better learn to watch your tongue, this here is Scharpf country, just remember that, you too stranger." A threat was clearly implied.

Matt forced a smile to his face and answered innocently, "I'm just a cowhand looking for a little work."

Scharpf turned his horse's head, doffing his derby in the process, "Doctor, Mr. Smith, a pleasure I'm sure. I apologize for not being able to chat longer, but we must take our leave of you. We have pressing matters which require our immediate attention." With a tap of his riding crop to his horse's rump the pair rode off.

The trees grew thicker and the path they traveled felt cooler for the shade. "This is Stambridge land," the doctor said simply. The sound of rushing water could be heard up ahead as the road turned to follow the path of the river. "There she is, the Yellow River." Willow, aspen and birch trees lined the banks, giving glimpses to the magnificence of the clear blue running river. A patchwork ofwildflowers decorated the native grasses at the water's edge.

"I've been thinking Marshal Dillon, considering her sickness a few months back, her recent head injury, and the loss of her husband, it may be best if you don't tell Mrs. Stambridge too much of your shared past. She has enough to handle, it may be wise if she just believes you're a cowhand looking for work. Give her time to remember things on her own…"

The road turned away from the river and rich green pastures, filled with grazing cattle, replaced the aspen. In the distance an outcropping of buildings was visible. As they drew nearer, Dillon could make out the ranch house. It was a large two-storied white frame structure, with gabled peaks, a wraparound veranda, baywindows, and gingerbread trim. A belvedere with widow's walk, divided the upper floor and massive oak doors were centered between four windows on each side on the main level. The style was Queen Anne and Matt, who knew nothing about such things, couldn't help but think it was perfect for Kitty. Despite its elegant design it was badly in need of repair. Closer inspection revealed someone had started the process, for the porch showed signs of recent work and fresh paint.

Tucker pulled the gig to a stop in front of the house. Dillon's eager gaze swept the scene, looking for Kitty. His heart was pounding hard in his chest and the palms of his hands were was like a schoolboy in his impatience to see her. He followed thedoctor up the porch steps and waited as Tucker banged the large brassknocker. The door was answered several moments later by a small redhaired woman of early middle years. Dressed neatly in a blue calicodress covered by a white apron, her face was pretty and kind.

"Hello Molly." Tucker greeted.

"Good Day to you Dr. Bill." She replied with a decided Irish brogue. "I see you'd be bringing a friend with you too, come in, come in." She stepped back from the door allowing it to swing wide open. The entryway of the home featured a parquet floor laid in an intricate and painstaking design. The wood gleamed and the smell of lemon oil filled the hall. "Miss Kitty is in the parlor, and a wee bit upset is she, we just had a visit from that wretched man Scharpf. Him thinking he can turn on the charm and have his way with her." She led them to another set of double doors, which she opened and with a wave of her hand, she ushered them into the room.

"Mrs. Stambridge, tis the Doctor to see you." Kitty stood with her back to the door, leaning an arm across a mahogany fireplace mantle,staring at a photograph of Will Stambridge. Matt studied the thin black-gowned figure before him. Her hair was pulled back and secured at the nape of her neck by a large ebony clasp. He watched as she took a deep breath, leveled her shoulders and turned around. With an outstretched hand she walked toward her guests.

Time lost meaning as she moved closer to him - the missing part ofhis soul had been found. Her innate beauty took his breath. Gone was her saloon makeup. A fine dusting of freckles was visible across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. She'd always despised them before, viewing their presence as a flaw. He on the other hand had thought them her most endearing feature for they seemed to show a vulnerability, which she concealed from all but her closest friends. He was shocked by how thin she'd become. Her high cheekbones stood out prominently and there were purple shadows under her violet blue eyes. It seemed to take a certain amount of determination on her part to make them focus on matters at hand and an effort to maintain her poise. "Hello Dr. Bill, what brings you all the way out here?"

"My dear, I've brought a friend with me. This man is Matt Smith; he's a cowpoke from Kansas. I told him, you might be in the market for an extra ranch hand."

She raised her chin a bit. Offering him her hand she asked, "You're along way from home aren't you cowboy?" On her lips was the specter of a smile. "You should be talking to my foreman, Seamus does all the hiring around here, but since we are short-handed at the moment, I guess I can speak for him. Why don't you take your gear down to the bunkhouse? Feel free to stable your horse."

"About the horse, Ma'am, I'm afraid I don't have one." Dillon admitted. His hand was still holding hers, reluctant to release their connection.

Pulling her fingers free from his grip, she turned to the doctor with humor showing on her face. "Fine cowboy you bring to me Dr. Bill, he doesn't even have a horse. Well, I guess we can remedy that problem. Just talk to Seamus about that too."

"Miss Kitty, you should know that Mr. Smith is a fine hand with a gun. He'd be a good man to have on your side in a fight." At the doctor's words she turned to the cowboy for a closer look, she let her gaze travel up his body to rest on his eyes.

"Dr. Tucker told me about what happened to you and your husband. You have my sympathy." Matt said sincerely. Their eyes remained locked until she looked away.

"Thank you Mr. Smith." Her voice became determined. "I aim to see that justice is done. Will Stambridge was murdered. There is little doubt that Harland Scharpf is responsible for his death."

"We met up with Scharpf and his friend, on the way here." Tucker divulged.

"He's a G-damn son-of-a-bitch. I hate him … the f-g bastard."She blurted angrily.

Dillon blushed; it must have been due to such words coming from her pretty lips, because it wasn't like those words were new to him and he hadn't heard them spoken most every day of his life.

Immediately she was embarrassed by her speech, "Oh I'm sorry" she apologized. "I seem to have quite a repertoire of bad language. It makes me wonder about my past life."

"I think your description is probably pretty accurate." Matt returned smiling kindly.

"Yes, well, as I said, I am going to make him pay for what he did."

He spoke like the `badge' he was, "I don't think that would be wise Mrs. Stambridge. From all accounts, Scharpf is a dangerous man. You should let the law take care of things."

She snorted, with her hands on her hips, staring up into his face, her words spilled out, "Let me tell you something. I may not remember my past, but I do recall geography and it seems to me you'rea helluva long way from Kansas to be trying to call the shots in Colorado!" She took a deep breath and continued her words at a slower more precise pace; "There is no law in Yellow River except that which answers to Harland Scharpf. Now, this is the hand that has been dealt to me. Scharpf wants my land and the Yellow River, but he also wants me too, oh, I know the land is more valuable than I am, but still it does give me an ace in the hole. I'll let him play out his hand and we'll see how the cards fall."

Dillon shook his head and swallowed a chuckled, "Poker must be your game Mrs. Stambridge. If you don't mind I'll just stick around and back up your play"

She nodded in acquiescence "Suit yourself. Just so long you understand the rules Mr. Smith. This is my place, and I am the boss."

Matt grabbed his gear from the doctor's buggy and made his way downtoward the ranch's outbuildings. He spotted a man standing next to the corral struggling with what appeared to be a very active toddler in his arms.

"Mr. Mulgrew?" Matt called.

Mulgrew turned around, "I be Seamus Mulgrew." He was not a large man,but he built like a bull, all muscle. His face, like his voice was clearly Irish.

"I'm Matt Smith," the name stuck on his tongue, "I'm a friend of Dr. Tucker's. Mrs. Stambridge just hired me."

Mulgrew squinted his eyes against the sun and studied his newest ranch hand. "You being a friend of Doc Bill's makes you a friend to the rest of us, I'm a thinking. We're grateful for the help , there's work a plenty to be done here."

Matt couldn't help grinning as he noticed the toddler trying to escape from her father's grip.

"Yeah, I see you've got your work cut out for you."

Seamus returned the grin, and planted a kiss to the grape jelly stained cheek of the little red-haired baby in his arms, "Tis the truth, this little leprechaun is Katie. She should be up at the house with her ma. But, Molly's doing some baking, so I volunteered to look after the wee one for a bit." He repositioned the baby to one arm and pointed toward a small building. "You can stow your gear in the bunk house behind the barn, there's only one other hand left, so you've got your pick of the beds."

"I'll be needing a horse Mr. Mulgrew."

"We got plenty of those. You're a big man. Matthew? Tis it?. You'll be needin a big horse. How does that bay suit you?" He asked indicating a large gelding in the corral.

"He'd suit me just fine."

A young man in his early twenties stood at the barn door calling to the foreman, "Mr. Mulgrew, can you come up here and take a look at Mrs. Stambridge's mare?"

"I'll be right there Johnny." Mulgrew shouted in reply. To Matt he said, "Here be your first job, take wee Katie up to the house and hand her over to Miss Molly in the kitchen. Then come on back down and I'll show you around a bit."

"Ah. . . Mr. Mulgrew," Matt stuttered. " I don't know anything about babies."

"Lad, if you can handle a young calf than you can handle this one."Seamus assured him.

Before he could say another word the tyke had been deposited in his arms. She squirmed only for a moment, and then stopped to look into the face of the man holding her. She wrapped her chubby arms around his neck, and giggled at him. There was a strong odor about her of bread and butter; sun dried cotton and soggy diaper.

Mulgrew gave a chuckle and said. "It appears our Miss Katie is smitten." Before Matt could utter another word of protest, Seamus Mulgrew turned to run up to the barn.

The baby's giggle was infectious and Dillon couldn't help but smile at her. It was clear she had a friendly trusting nature as a child who grows up in a household of love will often have. "Let's find your mama," Matt said, eager to get rid of the kid before she further dirtied her pants.

"Mama, mamamama." The baby mimicked in a sweet singsong.

"You're a talker aren't you?" Matt said, as he carried her back to the house.

To prove his point, she proceeded to call his attention to all the areas of interest they met along the way, "Moo-moooo." she babbled as they ambled by the milk cow. "Wa-wa." she explained as they approached the pump. "Pret-teee." She said as they passed the roses blooming at the garden gate leading into the back yard.

There was a pleasant porch with swing and rocker attached to the rear of the house. It was here Matt stood with the baby perched on his arm peering through the screen door into the kitchen. Molly's humming of an Irish jig could be heard over the sounds of pots and pans and oven doors. He rapped loudly on the door.

"Come in." She looked up from the bread she was kneading. "Oh, tis you Mr. Smith, got saddled with the wee one already, did you?" She wiped her hands on her apron. " Here let me take her, tis time for her nap."

Molly held out her hands for the baby and Katie fell into them. "Whew! Goodness, Katie you've soaked through your nappies."

Matt's arm was wet where the little girl had been, Molly offered an apologetic smile, "Tis part and parcel of living at Yellow River Ranch Mr. Smith, I'm afraid our little one leaves her mark on everyone sooner or later." She nodded at a baking pan setting on its side on the cooling rack, "You be helping yourself to some of that nice fresh bread, I expect a big man like you needs plenty to keep him going."

"Thank you ma'am." Matt replied. He watched Molly and Katie go up the back stairs off the kitchen.

When they were gone he cut himself a piece of bread and began eating it. He stopped chewing when he heard the sound of Kitty's voice coming from beyond a swinging door, and realized the parlor must be the room on the other side. He moved closer to listen.

"Dr. Bill, I appreciate the fact you have brought this stranger to us. Lord knows we haven't been able to hang onto help since Scharpf scared off all our hands but Seamus and Johnny. However, I have to say there is something about him that just doesn't set right with me."

"My dear, all you need be concerned with right now is he's a good man who handles a gun well."

"From what I've been told the same could have been said about Will Stambridge, and look where it got him."

"Now, now, don't go thinking about that." Dr. Bill soothed, then in an effort to change the subject he asked. "How have the headaches been?"

"Well if you count the one I have right now, they have been pretty constant." It was said not for sympathy, but as a statement of fact.

"And the dizziness?" He questioned.

"About the same." She answered.

"It's all part of the concussion, the symptoms should lessen overtime. Now, Miss Kitty, I'm going to leave you some headache powders, and I want you to take them."

"They just make me sleepy. They give me bad dreams. I'd rather have the headache than the nightmares."

"I can understand that, but you need your rest. It's very important to your recovery." Dillon strained to hear more but it seemed that was the end of their conversation. The sound of footsteps faded toward the front of the house.

His hand rested on the door ready to push it open, but he resisted the urge remembering the doctor's advice. He stared at the wooden barrier as though to see through it. After two long lonely years he was this close to Kitty Russell, with only a swinging door separating them. It came to him as a sad acknowledgement - he had no right to open the door, at least not yet.

With her arm looped through Doc Bill's she walked him to the front door, "Take care, my dear," he said. "Please try to get some rest. I'll be stopping by later in the week."

Kitty offered her thanks and waved good-bye as he drove his buggy down the lane. She stood at the door a moment longer as if waiting for something to jog her memory, when nothing did she turned around to go back in her house. Vertigo rushed over her and she staggered to the stairs and clutched the mahogany newel post until the sensation passed. She pressed a hand over her eyes in an effort to relieve the pain, which throbbed behind them. Dr. Tucker was right about one thing, she admitted to herself, she was tired, so tired. With a sense of defeat, Kitty looked at the envelope of headache powders he had left with her. Maybe the nightmares wouldn't come if she took an afternoon nap. Even she had to smile at the childish logic of her reasoning.

Using the ornately carved banister for support she climbed the stairs and tread wearily down the hallway to her quarters. The masterbedroom was huge, dominated by a massive canopied bed. She walked into the room to stand at the center. Turning in a slow circle she scanned every inch of the space, desperately trying to elicit a flash of remembrance. Again she felt nothing - no warmth, no security, no feeling of coming to a safe haven. She wondered about that. Surely this room above all should hold fond memories.

She measured out the prescribed dosage of the headache powders and stirred it into a glass of water. It tasted foul and required an effort to drink. She turned to her dressing table and saw the picture of Will Stambridge staring back at her. She moved closer for a better look. There was a carafe of brandy sitting next to her husband's photograph. Perhaps a sip of that warm liquid would ease her pain, she thought. She poured herself a generous amount and took the glass and Will's picture to the chaise lounge. This was where she had slept for the past two weeks. For reasons she was unable to identify, Kitty couldn't bring herself to lie in the canopied bed.

She eased herself down and pulled a mohair afghan up to her chest, more for comfort than warmth. She took a drink from the glass letting the liquid burn a trail down her throat. After a time she felt the alcohol taking effect. Finally, she picked up the picture again and stared at the face of the man she had married, seeking a connection, but, like all times before, she saw and felt nothing.

This had been the way it was for the past two weeks. Her earliest recollection was waking up in that bed. An excruciating pain that made the slightest movement agony had consumed her head. She recalled Molly leaning close to her. "Hush now, darlin, just close your eyes and try to sleep." She had said other words after that, but they dissolved into gibberish, as the pain became her master.

It had been two full days later before the oblivious haze had finally lifted. A reality composed of unanswered questions made her wish for the sanctuary that unconsciousness had provided. She remembered nothing, and no one from the time before she had been injured. As hard as she searched for a trigger to release her memory, nothing did. Gradually she was learning to function in this alien world where she was so much the foreigner.

She took another drink of the brandy and closed her eyes, waiting forthe dull throb to go away and sleep to come. When it did, it brought with it a disturbing dream; she was running from room to room of her house looking for pictures of Will. She was desperate to remember him; growing more and more panicked. Every time she found his picture, the mysterious Mr. Smith replaced his image. She awoke in a cold sweat. She sat up, with the feeling of panic still in her. With a shaky hand, she reached for the rest of the brandy and finished it in one gulp, before getting up to pour herself more.

Kitty had been missed at the supper table that night by the new ranch hand. Molly Mulgrew served platters of steaming roast beef to the men as they talked about their day and the plans for the next. But,Molly noticed that Matt seemed too quiet. "Mr. Smith, is there something you'd be wanting?"

He shook his head, "No thank you ma'am everything is mighty good. I was just wondering about Mrs. Stambridge. Does she usually eat alone?"

A sad smile settled on Molly's pretty face. "She and Mr. Will used to eat all of their meals here with us, unless they was having company. T'was a jolly time, it was. Since Mr. Will died, she hardly eats at all, and never here in the kitchen." She passed the potatoes to her husband before turning back to Matt, "Dr. Bill gave her some medicine today, and she be sleeping now. Poor thing, she's not done much of that lately either."

Kitty awoke at first light. The stays from her corset were pinching her rib cage and she realized that she had slept the whole night in her clothing. The liquor induced sleep had left her groggy and with a bad taste in her mouth. She considered it an adequate tradeoff for the respite the alcohol had provided. Common sense warned her against making it a habit. She stripped out of the black dress and undergarments and using the cold water in the pitcher gave her self a quick sponge `bath'. She pulled a silk robe around her body,knotting the sash to hold it closed. Her hair was tangled and would require some patient combing to rid it of the rats nests. The songs of the morning birds drew her to the window. She had left it open all night so the room held a bit of a chill. As she began to pull the window shut, she happened to glance towards the well pump. He stood over the bucket there, stripped to the waist. His body was lean and muscular and just watching him stirred something inside of her. Like a mysterious power she couldn't comprehend, his eyes were pulled toward her direction, and he looked up to see her framed in the window. He smiled and lifted his hand in salute. She hastily stepped back to hide behind the curtains, when she looked again he was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

YR 2

Mulgrew kept Matt busy that first day, as he had said, there wasplenty of work to be done. Scharpf's threats had scared away most ofYellow River's cowboys. Work that was usually done by ten men wasnow in the hands of three.

It wasn't until later in the day that Matt saw Kitty again. She wasin the rose garden. A refreshing evening breeze had replaced the heatof the day. She sat on her knees with a small spade in her hand. Hehad never known her to be a gardener and he enjoyed seeing this newdimension to her personality. Her hands were muddy as was the bridgeof her nose where she'd scratched an itch. He watched as she pickedup a clipper to trim an errant branch from the rose bush.

"Damn!" She cried as a thorn pierced her finger. In two longstrides he was beside her, he dropped to a knee and reached for theinjured hand.

She was startled, "Mr. Smith, I didn't know you were there." A tingleraced down her spine at the knowledge this stranger had been watchingher.

"Here, let me take a look at that." Matt said holding tight to herhand.

"Oh, it's nothing." She replied as she tried to pull free. His holdwas firm, and he took a good long time examining the wound.

"The thorn is still in there," he said. Using his thumb andforefinger he squeezed the puncture site until he had exposed therose barb. He pulled it out and tossed it away. Kneeling togetheras they were, they were face to face, she looked up and their eyesmet and locked. For a moment she couldn't breath and her heart didstrange things in her chest. She felt certain that he must be awareof her reaction to him, for a slow grin lifted his features.

He ran a tongue over his lips and she was mesmerized by theaction, "You'd better get that washed." he said. Still holding herhand he stood and helped her to her feet. An all too familiar waveof dizziness hit her, and he noticed that too.

"Are you alright?" he questioned. She closed her eyes tightly,fighting for her equilibrium. Afraid to open them and look into hisblue ones again, for she wasn't sure if it was the stranger or theconcussion playing havoc with her balance. When she didn't answer,he led her to the garden bench that rested under an oak tree. He letgo of her hand and she felt the poorer for its loss.

"You just sit here," he instructed and then walked over to the returned with a tin cup filled with cold well water.

She took a long grateful drink and said, "Thanks."

In an effort to lighten the moment he offered, "I'm afraid its littleKatie you owe your thanks to, she's the one who showed me where thepump was."

"Katie?" she asked.

"Yeah, the Mulgrew's baby." He couldn't conceal the surprise in hisvoice. Surely she must be aware that there was a toddler in her home.

"Oh, yes." Her reply sounded vague, "I haven't seen much of , I'll make a point of saying thank you to her if I see her."She stood, she still felt dizzy, but she had to get away from him,for he seemed to strike a cord in her that no one or nothing elsehad. It frightened her.

He watched her walk away from him, again. She hesitated at thekitchen door to glance back at him. Their eyes met briefly beforeshe turned away and proceeded into the house.

Dillon felt restless and in no mood for slumber. The bunkhouse washot, even with the windows wide open the log building refused torelinquish the heat of the day. Bright moonlight beamed in throughthe window casting shadows about the room, even in the dead ofnight. He lay on his bed staring at the ceiling; while Johnny's notso quiet snores harmonized with the night sounds of bullfrogs andcicadas. There was a time when none of this would have interruptedhis night's sleep. There was a time when he was like Johnny, andcould sleep through anything. The badge had changed that, the badgeand a certain redhead.

He rolled over to his side trying to find a comfortable position onthe lumpy mattress, no matter his pose his knees had to be bent orhis head or feet would have been left to hang over the ends of thebunk. He began going over in his mind the past week since he'd cometo Yellow River.

His hard work and muscle had been appreciated. Seamus, Molly andJohnny had been quick to accept him. He had learned a bit about themtoo. Seamus and Molly Mulgrew had been with the ranch when WillStambridge had purchased it nearly two years before. Molly was ashirt-tailed relative of Argus Gallagher. Knowing the trouble thatlay ahead for the ranch Argus had refused to sell to Seamus. Therehad been some hard feelings, but in the end, Seamus had forgivenGallagher for selling to an outsider. He was just happy to stay onat Yellow River. Stambridge had proven a good boss, giving Seamus afree rein in most matters concerning the daily operation of thecattle business. Seamus knew the land about as well as any mancould. He had a deep love and pride for the ranch that had nothingto do with a bill of sale. This had been evident to Matt when Mulgrewhad shown him around the property.

That had been earlier in the week; he and Seamus had ridden out to

check the fencing in the North range. "I tell you Matthew, therenever t'was the need for any kind of fencing before all this troublestarted. Why back when Molly and I first came here to work for ol'Argus this was all open range. Now we're using the barbed wire atall the property lines. It don't stop them from stealing our cattle,but I reckon it slows them down a wee bit."

"Scharpf steals your cattle?" Matt had asked.

"Yes, bold as brass is he, course it's not he himself that does thedirty work. His men follow Hoppe's orders, but we can be a guessingwhere Mr. Hoppe gets his instructions."

Matt's bunk mate, Johnny Yoman, had come to the ranch about the timeStambridge bought the place, he was a nice young fellow, with a goodsense of fun about him. When Matt had asked him why Scharpf hadn'tscared him off with all the rest of the hands, he'd replied, "I don'tlike folks telling me what to do, unless they got a right to. Guess,maybe I'm too dumb to scare off, besides, I liked working for and Seamus reminds me of my Pa, course my Pa and Ma are deadnow. Anyways, they've always treated me fair here, and hell, ain't noone can cook like Miss Molly."

Matt sat up and swung his feet to the floor. It was no use, he wastoo hot to sleep, and the way his mind was working just laying therewasn't going to slow it down. He pulled his pants and boots on,grabbed his worn blue work shirt, and quietly so as not to wakenJohnny left the bunkhouse. The coolness of the night was a welcomedchange. He left the shirt unbuttoned to allow the breeze access tohis torso. He was thirsty and the thought of a cup of cold wellwater sounded almost as good as a cold beer.

The handle of the pump made more noise than he had noticed during theday, but there was no way he could pump quietly. As he drank thewater he looked up at the bedroom window where he had seen Kitty. Hethought of her sleeping, and that reflection brought with it imagesthat did nothing to cool him down. He filled up the tin cup again andthis time dumped it over his head.

Kitty … he'd never thought he could be this close yet feel so apartfrom her. He had only seen brief glimpses of her, like that earlyevening in the flower garden. She spent most of her time by breakfast in the morning he would watch Molly scurrying aroundpreparing a tray to take up to her. It worried him, thinking aboutKitty eating all alone, she had always been such a social , he had come to look forward to breakfast at Molly's table,where a new red head had earned his attention. He had found his wayto the seat next to the highchair. There was something aboutstarting the day listening to little Katie's babbles that that didDillon's lonesome heart good.

He ran splayed fingers through his wet hair. The sound of the riverrumbled in the distance. He felt pulled in its direction. The fullmoon lit the way. A path ran just past the house, its purpose ashort cut to the river's banks for would be fishermen. He was verynearly there when he saw her. She was silhouetted against the nightsky, with moonbeams to shine on her loveliness. She took his breathaway, for seeing her thus, was so much like his daydreams come true.

He walked closer, making noise so that she would know he wasapproaching, not wanting to startle her again. Still, she wassurprised and looked in his direction with alarm in her eyes. Whenshe saw it was he, a raised eyebrow and a haughty look replaced thefear.

"What are you doing out here?" She demanded.

Her hair hung loose over her shoulders and down her back, the sweetfamiliar scent of her mingled with the fragrance of apple blossomsfrom the orchard on the hill. A pale satin robe covered her curves,but couldn't conceal the generous swell of her breasts or the effecthis presence had on them. She noticed the direction of his gaze andquickly crossed her arms over her bosom. She took a deep breath in aneffort to calm her runaway pulse.

"I guess like you, I couldn't sleep." He said. It was an effort tokeep his breathing normal.

His voice was kind and she forgot her bravado, "I come out here a lotlately." She admitted. "There's something about the sound of theriver that's soothing." The breeze caught his shirt exposing hismuscular chest for her view. The sight caused a shock like anelectrical current to run through her settling in the pit of herstomach and lower. Propriety warned her she shouldn't be here in thedark with the cowboy. She should order him back to the bunkhouse,but she didn't.

"I know what you mean." He agreed softly.

"Do you?" She turned away from him to face the river. " I keepthinking that something is going to jar my memory, something is goingto give me a clue to my past."

He moved closer so that he was standing directly behind her. Shecould feel the heat of his breath in her hair as he said, "Maybe youshould stop worrying about the past, and live for the present. Itseems to me that sometimes the past is better forgotten."

"Is that what you do Mr. Smith?"

"I'm learning to." He admitted.

Her words came out in a husky whisper, "You have a past you'd ratherforget?"

"Let's just say, I've made some bad decisions I'd just as soonforget."

She turned to look at him. "Your memories can't be all bad. Haveyou a wife? A family?"

He shook his head, "No." He looked so lonely, that she reached out ahand to touch his arm. It was merely a connection from one misplacedsoul to another. But its significance wasn't lost on either bit her lip and took a deep shaky breath. "I'd best head back tothe house. You too, I imagine Seamus has a full work day planned foryou tomorrow."

She turned to lead the way. The path by the river was littered withtwigs and branches, and even a moon as bright as that evening'scouldn't have lit the path enough to show every obstacle in theirway. Her slippered foot caught on a tree root. She lurched forwardand braced herself to hit the ground. But the cowboy had quickreflexes and caught her. For a moment she felt his arms around her,their strength and warmth bringing safety and security and somethingmore. Awareness flowed through every fiber of her being bringingwith it life, as sap through a tree in spring. She had been in hisarms before! It was just a flash of remembrance, not really enough tohold onto. She had known this man and had felt the heat of hisbreath in her hair and the beat of his heart against hers. Thefeeling excited and scared her and she pulled free. "Goodnight ." she said breathlessly, and ran from him toward the house.

Matt didn't follow, but watched until the shadow of the houseobscured her from view. He rubbed his fingers together, recallingthe smoothness of her robe and the warmth of her flesh beneath was a good feeling touching her again, and it stirred all thosefeelings he had so long denied. Yellow River called to him, and hereturned to her banks. He sat down, leaning against an old tonight he chose not to forget, embracing the memory of the lovethat had bound them together for those eighteen years. His headrested against the trunk of the tree and finally closing his eyes heslept.

Katie walked with a gait that reminded Matt Dillon of an old sailorhe'd once met. Seamus concurred with the thought. "She hasn'tquite got her sea legs yet." He laughed as they watched her toddlearound the kitchen the following morning. Katie was a childpossessed with limitless curiosity and a definite will of her she had set her mind to something, it was very difficult todissuade her to a different line of thought. Still, she had apleasant nature and only rarely showed signs of a temper. The factshe was petted and spoiled by Molly, Seamus and even Johnny no doubtresponsible for her good humor.

"Would you be putting the baby in her highchair now Seamus?" Mollyasked. "Breakfast is ready."

The baby giggled at Mulgrew as he tried to corner her. "C'mon Katiemy love, time to eat."

He coaxed.

With her red curls bouncing she shook her head. An impish grin turnedup the corners of her mouth; her bright eyes twinkled withmischief, "No-no." She said.

"Kaa-tie, I said c'mon. Look, we're having some nice eggies forbreakfast. You be liking eggies now don't you?" Seamus encouraged.

"No-NO!" She declared, being playfully rebellious. The Irishmanmade a move toward her and giggling she turned to run away from himand ran right into Matt's arms. He scooped her up, swinging her inthe air making her giggles turn to squeals of delight. "A good thingyou're doing that before she eats rather than after, or you'd bewearing her breakfast Matthew." Seamus laughed.

Finally settled in her chair with a bib tied around her neck thelittle girl started eating the scrambled eggs Molly had set in frontof her. Matt sat at his usual spot next to Katie. "B'wen." Shejabbered reaching her sticky fingers toward his piece oftoast. "B'wen …. B'wen." She repeated.

He looked at her quizzically before it came to him she was asking fora bite of his toast. "Oh, bread. Here you go." He tore off a smallpiece of the soft middle and handed it to Katie and went back to hiseating, it wasn't two seconds later that she was begging again.

Katie reached over and tugged at his shirt, leaving a purplestain. "Moh … moh b'wen."

"You eat yours already?"

"Moh."

He smiled at her, and tore off another piece, "better chew this one."Dillon advised. It never occurred to him he was being played thefool by a toddler. The performance was repeated twice more beforeMatt started to figure something was amiss.

"Moh…"Katie demanded, "Moh."

There was a bit of a scowl on his face, "What happened to the ones Igave you?"

"Aw gon … " she raised her hands to show them empty.

"Did you eat them?"

"Aw gon…" she said again, and then leaned over her high chair topoint at the floor, "Aw gon."

Beneath her chair were littered half a dozen bits and pieces of hisown toast, she looked up at him and begged again, "Moh… moh bwen….Peeze…"

It was hard to be stern in the face of Katie the Leprechaun,especially when she used her wiles, but he'd had some practice indealing with a redhead's charms, "No more of my toast Katie. You'rejust wasting it, and I'm hungry." The words came out sounding alittle sterner than he had intended. He'd done a lot of orderingabout and reprimanding during his years wearing a badge but never hadhis scolding garnered such effect. He watched, as those few wordsseemed to turn her world and smile upside down. Her lips formed a

trembling pout; tears welled in her big blue eyes, her breath caughtin her throat in jerky hiccups that shook her shoulders. He felt likea monster, an ogre.

"Be strong Matthew … Katie'll be wrapping you around her finger ifyou let her." Seamus advised.

Mrs. Mulgrew smiled at the look on Matt's face, "Seamus is right,it's for Katie's own good, the wee one has to know the right andwrong of things." She placed a teapot on the tray she'd beenpreparing; picked it up and backed through the swinging door, "I'llbe taking breakfast up to Miss Kitty now." She said on her way out.

Molly's announcement seemed to be the final straw for Katie. She letout a howl, crying, "Mama, Mamamamama, Mama..." her cry turnedinto a tearful chant.

Seamus walked over from his place at the head of the table, and triedto lift the child from her highchair, but Katie straightened herspine refusing to be budged. Aggravation showed on the Irishman'sface. "The child needs her Ma! Lord knows the rest of us haven'tthe time to be playing nurse maid to the scamp, much as we all loveher." All Matt saw was the sadness in the baby's eyes, as she foughtdesperately for someone to acknowledge her frustration.

Dillon stood and held out his hands to the little girl in thehighchair, as their eyes locked she raised her arms to him. Helifted her from the highchair without any resistance. Katie wrappedher arms around the lawman's neck and laid her tear stained faceagainst his shoulder. Sorrowful sobs shook her little body, and hefelt his shoulder wet from her tears. Matt patted her back and madegentle rocking motions, while murmuring the most natural ofwords, "It's alright now, Katie, it's alright."

Seamus Mulgrew shook his head and chuckled. "Tis a talented man youare Matthew Smith. I'm thinking there must be days when Molly coulduse your help more than can I."

Unconsciously Matt tightened his hold of the child. If he'd been aman of words, maybe he could have used them to describe the feelingholding that baby gave him. He'd never had the opportunity to know achild well, especially one so young as Katie. The protectiveness hefelt was overwhelming. Within the space of a week this child hadworked her way into his heart finding a place there that Marshal MattDillon never knew existed.

"Sweet Mother of God, I heard that child crying all the way up byMiss Kitty." Molly scolded. She had returned with the tray stillfilled with food. The only thing missing was the blue willow teapotand cup.

"Molly Mulgrew," Seamus raised his voice, something he rarely did. "I don't care what Doc Bill says, it's time that Miss Kitty knew whothe child is. That baby needs her Ma, and it tain't right keepingthem two apart."

"Seamus, I'll not be going against the doctor's orders, and neitherwill you... Do you hear me?" Molly's angry voice rose to a levelequal to her husband's.

Seamus shook his finger at his her. "I'm not liking this MollyGallagher Mulgrew." He turned and left shutting the screen door withforcefulness, it slammed three times in his wake.

Molly narrowed her eyes at the door, she stomped her foot infrustration. Then turned to see the baby clinging to the ranchhand. "Here, I'll be taking the poor little thing." She reached forKatie, who reluctantly released her grip on Matt's neck.

Seeing the look of shock on Dillon's face she felt she owed him somesort of explanation. "It hasn't been easy, keeping the two of themapart, the little one crying for her Ma all night long, especially,those first few days. But Doc Bill said it was important for MissKitty not to be a worrying about caring for a wild one like this,until she was stronger."

His heart was pounding so loud that he hardly heard himself ask, "Howold is Katie?"

"Let's see, she was born in January, she'd be 18 months now."Dillon's eyes lingered on the baby, studying her features. He wasamazed that he hadn't known it from the first moment he saw her. Shewas a beautiful child and if he were to imagine Kitty as a baby thiswould have been just how she would have looked. Katie's blue eyeslocked with Matt's. This was Kitty's baby. This was his child.

There was an impatient rap on the door as Seamus hollered through thescreen. "Matthew, we got work we be needing to do."

Author's note - Language Development of 12-24 month old childfrom Your Amazing Baby - In this year your baby's receptivevocabulary will increase to as much as 300 words and his spokenlanguage will increase to an average of 200-275 words. Between 18 and24 months your toddler will begin to speak using two-word may include phrases such as, "My car", "Where ball?", "SeeDaddy", etc.

"Matthew, I don't know how much you be knowing about red headedfemales, but we be in sore and blessed shape in a house dominated bythe three of them. A wise man learns when to shut his mouth. Thefact that I did should be no reflection on my own manlyhood." Helooked back at the screen door as an involuntary shiver went throughhis body.

They started walking toward the corrals. Matt silent as his mindstill in shock attempted to absorb what he'd just learned. Kitty'swords were echoing in his head. "I want you to tell me to say `no'to Will Stambridge."

"Matthew, head up to that North range and move the herd of Aberdeen-Angus to the Yellow River pasture I showed you last week. I'd bethinking that Scharpf might have his sights set them. They be thepride and joy of Yellow River ranch. I'd be hating it for sure, ifsomething was to happen to them."

Matt only half registered what Seamus was telling him. His mind wasreplaying that last conversation with Kitty in his office. He heardher voice, "It's hard to throw away 18 years Matt." She had beenpregnant! How was that possible after all the years they had beentogether? Why hadn't she told him? "My God!" he thought, he wouldnever have let her go had he known.

The Irishman's strong voice drew him forcefully to thepresent, "Matthew! I be talking at you!" Seamus had stopped walkingand was standing several paces behind Dillon.

Mulgrew studied the tall cowhand. This wasn't the first time he hadthought there was something curious going on. The cowboy had stoppedwalking, and had turned to look at him with confusion in hiseyes. "What is it Matthew?" Seamus asked.

Matt almost told him the whole story. He really needed a friend atthis moment and he instinctively knew that Seamus could be the bestkind of friend. But, he held back. There was too much he had tothink through in his own mind before he felt comfortable in sharingany part of it with someone else.

"I best be sending young Johnny with you." Seamus removed his wornStetson and wiped the sweat from his brow using his shirtsleeve. Withnarrowed eyes he glanced back at Matt. He would be getting to thebottom of all of this, but it would have to wait until the cattle hadbeen moved to safer ground.

"Matthew you're a good man, and I trust you. I don't need knowing aman long to decide that. I'll be hoping that one day soon, you'll belearning the same about me."

The big bay was a young horse, not much more than green broke. Matthad realized the gelding was trouble almost from the start. Herecalled some advice an old cowboy had given him once when he waschoosing a horse. "Pard." the old timer had said, "Always make surehe don't show too much white out of the corner of his eye. Sure signof a knucklehead." The warning had held true especially with thisanimal. He bulked crossing streams, he snorted his disapproval whenthey climbed a hilly trail, and he never seemed to settle into aneasy lope. To top it off, he had a tendency to be a stumblefoot,and with each stumble Matt was jarred against the saddle longed for his own old reliable buckskin and familiar shifted his seat and twisted his spine, trying to work out thekinks. He had a whole new set of saddle sores and their presenceonly added to the unease that Molly Mulgrew's news had given Yoman had kept up a non-stop if mostly one sided dialog goingfor the last two hours. Matt liked the boy. He was a big, good-looking kid who reminded the lawman of himself twenty years earlier.

"The thing is Matt," Johnny continued. "Ruby thinks just cause Ispend a Saturday night with her once a month, I'm planning onspending the rest of my life with her."

"Do you care for her?" Matt asked finally giving in and allowingJohnny to pull him away from his thoughts.

"I sure do like being with her! She knows how to please a man, ifyou know what I mean." Johnny revealed, with a boyish grin ofdelight on his face.

Matt smiled and nodded. "Is it anything more than that?"

"She makes me laugh." He said chuckling to himself.

Matt nodded again as he thought back to those earlier years withKitty when he tended to take himself too seriously. They rode on insilence, and Dillon thought the subject had ended. He let his mindgo back to Kitty, thinking of her married to Will Stambridge whilepregnant with his child. His imagination trying to picture her bodyas it went through the stages of pregnancy.

Johnny's voice interrupted his thoughts again, "She makes me feellike a man. When I'm with her, I'm more man than I ever thought Icould be."

Matt blinked his eyes against the trail dust, while feeling the painthat two years without Kitty had put him through. "Johnny, a manwould be a fool not to do everything in his power to make sure awoman like that never got away."

"Even if she is just a saloon gal?" He asked.

Dillon was saved from answering that question when the bay shied awayfrom a stick in the path. "Easy." Dillon cautioned the animal,pulling the reins tight while the horse continued to fight him.

"Billy is a wild man, aint he." Johnny said.

"Billy?" Matt asked.

"Yeah, that's what I called him. I was breaking him. He used tolike to nibble on Miss Kitty's flowers last summer. She had someSweet William growing over by the barn; you know how women have totry to purty things up all the time. Well, Billy comes along andeats it all down to the ground, we started calling him Sweet Billyafter that." The young man leaned over and gave the horse anaffectionate pat.

Dillon chuckled out loud, "Well maybe Billy will feel morecomfortable with me on his back now that I can call him by his propername."

They rode in quiet after that. Matt lost in thought again. Hewondered about her having the baby. Did she labor long? Was it adifficult birth? He winced at the thought of Kitty in pain. Did shethink of him, did she wish that he were there? He thought of the manshe had married. Did Stambridge hold her hand and try to ease herpain. Was Will Stambridge the first to hold his child, and place herin Kitty's arms?

A small stream that flowed from the Yellow River fed the Northrange. The valley was lush and green with early summer. Healthyblack cattle filled the basin. Before coming to Yellow River, Matthad never seen an Aberdeen- Angus, or Black Angus as some calledthem. Seamus had told him that ol' Argus had started the herd about10 years ago, when the cattle were first introduced from thehighlands of Northern Scotland. He had maintained that they wouldsomeday replace the Texas Longhorns. Stambridge too, had taken afancy to the breed. He'd had big plans for increasing the herd size,and had been in touch with Angus breeders from Wyoming. The herd ofabout a fifty head were scattered and would take some effort on thepart of the two men before they were rounded up and ready to move.

It had been years since Dillon had to use his skill as a cowboy. Thethought crossed his mind that an animal more seasoned than `Billy'would have made the job go a lot easier. The cows just seemed tomake the gelding more excitable. He pranced and lunged at thecattle, making them want to run. Matt's hands were raw from thetight reins he was forced to hold. Both he and Johnny were so intenton their jobs that they didn't notice the riders approach.

Finally they were ready to move the cattle up the stream in thedirection of the river. Before moving out, Matt took a long thirstydrink from is canteen. As he did several gunshots rang out. The herdbolted and threatened a stampede. Once again, Matt and Johnny hadtheir work cut out for them. The gunfire had made Billy almost aspanicky as the cattle. It took all of Dillon's horsemanship and agood deal of his patience to handle the big gelding. When the herdwas back under control. Matt turned to look in the direction of theshots. He wasn't surprised to see Elliott Hoppe along with some ofhis men watching. Dillon yanked on Billy's reins, turning his head,and then spurred his horse in the direction of the Double Bar Xhands.

"You don't look like much of a cowboy to me Smith." Hoppe said witha smirk on his face.

"Yeah, you look about as green as that horse you're a settin' on."Laughed a burly man, with grizzled whiskers and a mean smile.

"Face is familiar though, where'd you say he comes from Mr. Hoppe?"Asked an older cowboy on Hoppe's left.

Dillon stared down the foreman and his voice was low andeven, "Hoppe, you and your men stay clear of Stambridge land."Matt's right hand slid down to rest on the handle of his revolver, incase there was any doubt in his sincerity.

"Says who?" Elliott Hoppe wasn't going to play scared, especially infront of his men.

"I'm telling you Hoppe, and I'm not going to be telling twice."Matt's patience with the Double Bar X foreman had reached its limit.

"Clear you think you're a big man Smith, but big men can be cut downto size mighty quick" Hoppe wasn't about to back down, especiallywith his men to support him.

"I wouldn't try it." Dillon advised, and then turned Billy in thedirection of the herd. He could feel Hoppe's eyes boring into hisback. He joined Johnny and the two moved the herd out.

Scharpf's men watched in silence until the older hand turned to hisboss and said. "He ain't no cowboy Mr. Hoppe, I'd swear he's alawman. I spent a night or two in his jail in Dodge City. I'd swearthat man is Matt Dillon."

Hoppe shook his head. "Can't be Dillon. Why the hell would a U. be here in Colorado chasing around some mangy squat assedcattle?" Hoppe spit the trail dust from his mouth. "Still, I don'tlike the man. He's ain't nothin but trouble.

Johnny pulled his horse along side Dillon. "Matt I don't think it'ssuch a good idea, riling them fellas up like that. Hoppe'd just assoon kill us as look at us."

"Men like Hoppe will push you as far as you let them. Time to startpushing back."

"Mr. Will tried that, and they killed him dead." Johnny argued.

It was near dark when they had the herd settled in near YellowRiver. The range had been fenced with barbed wire, and would requirea morning's worth of repairs before Matt and Johnny would be able tohead back to the ranch.

They spread their bedrolls on a grassy bank near the water. Theriver yielded fish for supper and a cup of trail coffee finished offtheir meal. The sound of the cattle lowing provided a night closed his eyes to dream of his saloon gal, with lips as redas her name and of all the pleasures those lips could promise. But,Matt lay awake thinking of the woman he had loved for nearly half ofhis life. He had known the pleasure of her lips and the warmth ofher laughter. What a fool he had been to ever let her walk away fromhim. His mind traveled the familiar path of their 18-yearrelationship until it came to rest at Yellow River with Kitty andtheir daughter Katie.


	3. Chapter 3

YR 3

Kitty had spent the morning in her study working on the ranch could tell by the writing that this must have been a task she had done on a regular basis. It seemed extraordinary to her that a job she had obviously done so many times before shouldn't bring somerecollection with it.

It was hard to concentrate when all thoughts seemed to pull her backto meeting with the cowboy on the banks of Yellow River. She had sofew real memories of her own and she reasoned that was the reasonthis held such significance. She closed her eyes picturing themoonshine and the feel of being in his arms. The thoughts addedvitality to the beat of her heart. Her lips parted and her headtilted back as she closed her eyes remembering.

She had run to the house. A part of her hoping he wouldn't attempt tostop her, yet feeling disappointed that he hadn't. On the frontporch, she stopped in the shadows looking back to the river. Shecouldn't see him, but she could feel him. She had known that he wasstill watching her, and the thought had brought a smile. The heat ofhis hands had remained imprinted on her body. She had wrapped herarms around herself, rubbing her fingers against her arms, wishing itwere his hands touching her again. For the first time she had beentotally aware of her body, of its wants and yearnings. She'd wantedhim. This cowboy who had walked into her life little more than aweek ago, this man who stirred in her longings of such primalmagnitude that she quickened at the thought. She wanted him.

Finally taking a deep breath she had entered the house. It was darkwith only moonlight peeking through the lace curtains to light theway. She had felt a melancholy descend upon her at leaving step up the stairs had seemed to bring a heavier burden. Shestopped at the first landing as the realization came to her that thiswas not the first time she had felt this emotion. Just as she hadknown she had been in his arms before, she was aware she had walkedaway from those arms as well.

Sleep hadn't come. She supposed it had something to do with the unease she always felt in the room dominated by the canopy bed. Shehad felt alone and sad, acknowledging it was more than memories missing from her life. Grabbing the pillow from the chaise she hadclutched it to her breast, rocking slowly back and forth. Eventuallyshe let go of the pillow and poured a glass of brandy, tellingherself its purpose was sedative in nature, nothing more. She downedit in a gulp, and then poured a little more for good measure.

It had been Molly's gentle knocking at her door that woke her fromthe alcohol-induced sleep. "Come in," she'd said with a thick voice.

"Miss Kitty, tis a bright sunny day, and I've brought you a wee bitof breakfast to give you the strength to enjoy it."

Kitty had forced a smile on her lips. "Thank you Molly, but I don'tthink I could eat anything this morning. Just leave the coffee please."

She had seen the pity in Molly's eyes, and the way her glance hadstrayed to the empty bottle. "Are you sure Miss Kitty?"

"I'm sure, but thank you kindly anyway." The bedroom door hadremained open while Molly set the coffee pot and cup on the smalltable near the lounge chair. Kitty had heard the baby crying for her mother. Something in the sound of the child's cries seemed to echo the loneliness in Kitty's heart.

"Molly, it sounds like your baby needs you." Kitty had said.

"Yes ma'am, I'd best be tending to her." Molly replied, grabbing thetray and leaving the room.

Kitty had taken the cup and walked to the window. Wrapping herfingers around the mug she had enjoyed the warmth. The cowboy'svoice penetrated her thoughts, "Maybe you should stop worrying about the past, and live for the present. It seems to me that sometimesthe past is better forgotten."

From the window's great height, she could view the landscape for miles. So often she had stood at this window, coming to rely on the strengthening powers of the river. As far as her eyes could see was Stambridge land. This was hers; whatever else she had lost in herlife was insignificant to what was stretched out before her. She realized her thoughts weren't so different from the cowboy's advice.

Looking down, she saw Mr. Smith and Seamus Mulgrew as they walked toward the corrals. The little Irishman had stopped walking and the big man had continued. It appeared he was lost in thought and she wondered if he like she had been affected by their meeting the nightbefore. Would he turn to look toward her window as he had before?Hope flickered in her eyes until he was out of sight.

Whatever she did that day, her mind seemed to return to the timeshe'd spent with the cowboy on the banks of Yellow River. "Sometimes the past is better forgotten." He'd told her, and that night when she denied herself the promise of sleep the brandy bottle offered, sheheld on to his words instead. The gentle rhythm of his voicepermeated her frazzled emotions. The rest that seemed so hard to comeby lately, claimed her as soon as she put her head to the dreams brought her again to the water's edge where he was waiting for her. He pulled her tightly to him and whispered deep andhusky, "I need you Kitty, I need you."

The pounding of the brass knocker on the front door brought her back to the present of paperwork and accounting books. She hastily putthe ledger in the desk drawer. A moment later Molly's head poked inthe doorway. "Would you be up to seeing Mr. Scharpf this morning Miss Kitty?"

Her instincts recoiled at the idea, but she knew that if she was to have any chance in making this man pay for the pain he had caused inher life, than she must play his game.

`Yes, Molly, please show him in, and please prepare a tea tray for our guest." Molly scowled at Kitty, pursing her lips and shaking herhead with disapproval.

The sneer on his face as he passed Molly was not missed by Kitty'seye. But he quickly turned his handsome face to her, as his smilebecame its most charming.

"Mr. Scharpf, it is kind of you to call, please come in and have a seat." Kitty greeted trying to sound cordial.

"Why thank you Ma'am." His manners and appearance were flawless, as he escorted her to the settee.

"What can I do for you today?" she asked, hoping the smile on her face was believable.

"Why Miss Kitty, I'm just being neighborly. As I've told you before, I am concerned about your health, and if truth be told, I feel more than a little responsible for your calamity."

"Responsible?" she asked unable to keep the surprise from her voice.

"Why yes my dear, the ambush took place near Scharpf land, I can't help but think that if I were paying more attention to what was going on, the hoodlums who masterminded this atrocity would have been apprehended before they had committed their evil deed." He took her hand in his patting it sympathetically for effect. She resisted the urge to pull it free.

"I appreciate your concern."

"I must admit it is more than neighborly concern on my part. Irealize this is far too soon after your husband's unfortunate demise to broach the subject, but you are too lovely a lady to be left to deal with all of this on your own. I am here to offer my friendship, and perhaps when you are ready, something more."

She fought the urge to slap him. Instead she rose to her feet and walked away from him, to stand in front of the fireplace. A picture of Will and Kitty was sitting on the mantel. It was a stiff portrait, which showed no joy on the faces of the subjects. She became aware that her headache had returned, and she ran a hand over her eyes, stopping to massage her temples.

Molly knocked on the door and entered with the tea tray. She set it down and poured the strong Irish brew that she favored. Scharpf picked up a cup and brought it to Kitty.

"Forgive me madam, I obviously spoke out of turn, and have grievously offended you in this time of mourning," He too had noticed the picture, "you must have loved him a great deal." She took the cup he offered and answered only with a nod, for she had no answer really.

Scharpf had raised his cup in toast and answered, "Then he was alucky man."

He stayed another hour; he had been schooled in the art ofconversation and knew amusing stories, that despite the fact she knew him for a scoundrel, brought a smile to her lips. When he finally took his leave of her, he asked permission to come calling again. Sh agreed, "I'll look forward to your next visit Mr. Scharpf." He reached for her hand and brought it to his lips.

She remained seated, not walking him to the door. When she heard the front door close she stood up and walked back to the fireplace, drawnonce more to the picture on the mantel. The pressure in her head hadbuilt to a pounding pain. As she looked at the image, an angry voice seemed to be speaking to her saying, "tear up the picture!" The voice repeated the phrase becoming louder and louder keeping time with the throbbing in her head. She held the frame in her shaking hands. Finally she retaliated against the voice. "No!" she shouted and threw the picture against the wall shattering the glass.

It didn't take more than a moment before the door opened and Molly rushed in. "Holy Mary Mother of God! What is going on in here Miss Kitty?" she asked. Seeing the distress in Kitty's face, her eyes followed the direction of Kitty's stare. "Oh, my dear." She exclaimed. She walked over to Kitty and guided her out of the room by the hand she lead her to a wicker rocker on the front porch. There was a cool breeze and a pleasing early summer scent inthe air. "You just sit here Miss Kitty, lean your head back now,I'll return with a damp cloth for your forehead and some cool well water." She patted her employer's arm and left. Kitty did as she was instructed. Other than the pounding pain she was numb with neither the ability to think or act on her own. She gratefully accepted the water, which was laced with Doc Bill's headache powders, and the cloth for her forehead. Eventually the throbbing subsided and the quiet of the porch eased her tension. She thought about the voices in her head and wondered if she had lost her mind along withher memory.

Matt struggled all that morning with the nervous horse. It was close to noon before he and Johnny were ready to leave the pasture by theYellow River.

"Matt, I've been thinking . . . maybe you should ride my horse and I'll ride Billy back to the ranch. I'm guessing that Billy and I are more of the same mind - both of us bein' young `n all. This horse of mine is more set in his ways, like you. He knows what he's about."

Matt agreed, he was tired and didn't look forward to fighting with Billy all the way back to the ranch. When they had packed up their gear, he adjusted the stirrups, and mounted Johnny's paint. He hadn't had time to think about Kitty and Katie since the evening before, but now their images crowded his mind. He was eager to get back to the ranch.

Johnny seemed lost in his thoughts as well and the two men rode inamiable silence. They did not notice the lone gunmen on the bluff, with his sight set on one of the riders. The sound of the gunblast echoed through the valley. The bay reared in fright when the bullet struck his rider. Johnny fell to the ground as the spooked horse ran down the road in panic. Matt jumped from his mount with his gun drawn; he aimed the weapon in the direction of the gunshot, but saw only a blurred vision of horse and rider fleeing in the distance.

Quickly, Dillon moved to Johnny who lay on the ground moaning and holding his arm in pain. "Let me see it son." Matt demanded.

"Matt … tell Ruby that I loved her . . ." Johnny choked.

"Johnny it just looks like a flesh wound, you're going to be fine." Matt promised.

"I ain't never been shot, it hurts bad Matt." Johnny said as he blinked back tears.

"I know, let's get you home." Matt pulled out his bandana and wrapped it around the wound, then helped the younger man to his feet. Johnny swayed unsteadily as Matt left him for a moment to bring the horsecloser. He helped the boy to the saddle and the two started down the road back to the ranch - Johnny riding, Matt walking. He kept alert for Billy - the knucklehead horse and the gunman's return.

The sun was full in the sky as the heat of the day pounded down upon them. Matt silently cursed Billy who had escaped with his canteen. Johnny had forgotten to fill his at the river, and what had remained had been used to douse the boy's wound.

Seamus saw the pair as they came down the back lane, and he ran out to meet them. Matt's shirt was soaked with sweat and the grit from the trail, dusted his face and clothes.

"Matthew?" he questioned.

"We were ambushed Seamus, about five miles back, I couldn't identify who shot at us, but I don't doubt it was Hoppe or his men."

Between the two of them, they eased Johnny from his horse and walked him into the bunkhouse. "Would you be running up to the house and getting Molly. She's a gentle hand when it comes to tending a wound like this."

Matt had little energy left for running anywhere, but he put forth his best effort. "I don't take kindly to mud tracked in my kitchen Mr. Smith!" Molly exclaimed when he appeared at the screen door.

"Johnny's been shot! It's just a flesh wound. Seamus asked if you would come down to the bunkhouse to tend to him." Molly's hands flew to her mouth, "Saint's preserve us!" She declared, "Let me be gathering my things." She went to her pantry and returned shortly with a basket that she obviously kept prepared for just such emergencies. "Mr. Smith, could you be staying up here and listening for Katie, she's taking her nap, but it be near her waking up time."She glanced toward a basin of water and suggested. "You might be wanting to clean up a bit." Then she was gone.

Matt grimaced at her remark but moved to the basin. The water wascool as he let it wash over his face and arms. It seemed torevitalize him. After which, he poured himself a glass of milk andhelped himself to a half dozen of Molly's oatmeal raisin down at the table he finally relaxed.

He hadn't been sitting for more than two cookies before he heard asound coming from the back stairs. The baby was up and it brought asmile to his face. He'd never been up the stairs of the large home,but found he didn't have far to look for little girl's room. It was at the top of the stairs that he saw the small sunny niche that served as Katie's nursery. It was in the farthest corner of the house away from Kitty's room, and he thought it was no wonder that she was hardly aware of the baby's presence in the household.

Katie stood up in her crib, trying to raise her leg high enough to climb over the rail. Seeing him she smiled and raised her arms, "up ... up!" She demanded.

He lifted her from the crib. She grabbed his whiskered face in her hands and said in her most serious voice. "Poo-pEE." Her words were unnecessary for his sense of smell had already warned him of the condition of her diapers.

"Ah. . . Katie, I'm not much good when it comes to diapers." He apologized, hoping she would understand and forgive him for his inadequacies as a father.

She merely smiled her elfin grin and still holding his face in her hands repeated. "Poo-pEE."

He glanced anxiously around the room, his eyes finally resting on a small table under the window that held the supplies for diaper changing. Dillon swallowed hard. "Well, okay. But don't say I didn't warn you."

With much less difficulty than Matt had feared the task was accomplished. Her dress was soiled and after searching her bureau drawers he found another for her to wear. The most difficult job was getting her little feet into their shoes. He didn't think she seemed to putting much effort into helping him, and he suspected she would rather run around barefoot. "No, no, No." she told him after the third attempt. Matt had developed a healthy fear of Molly's ire, but Katie had him wrapped around her little finger. He finally said, "Alright Miss Katie, no shoes, but if Miss Molly scolds us,don't say I didn't warn you about that too."

He carried her down to the kitchen. "Coo-Kies." She exclaimed whenshe saw the remains of Matt's earlier snack.

He laughed. She certainly was a woman who knew how to get her way, he couldn't resist the impulse to hug her and drop a quick kiss onher forehead. "Coo-Kies." she squealed as she fought to free herselfof his grasp.

"Alright." He agreed. "Coo-Kies."

He sat back at the table with her on his lap. It came to him with a smile that she didn't even think of dropping the cookies to the floor as she had the toast. It was clear his little girl had a sweet tooth. She had finished up his cookies and two more before Mattdecided that he'd better cut her off. She was not happy when he toldher no more cookies. But he changed the subject quickly and askedher if she wanted to go outside. Not giving her a chance to agree ordisagree he carried her to the backyard.

"Down!" she ordered and struggled to free herself.

"No Katie. You don't have shoes on." He reminded her. He carriedher around the yard looking at the flowers. "Pret-tee." She reminded him. And Matt picturing the image of Kitty at work in the garden had to agree.

They made their way to the front of the house. It really was a huge structure and Dillon made note of the painting that needed doing, and he wondered how anyone would find the time to accomplish it. He hadn't looked to the porch, but Katie had.

"MaaMaa." She cried reaching out her arms. Kitty was sleeping in the wicker rocker her head resting to one side. Her eyes were closed and her lips parted slightly. Her beauty and the peace that this sleep had granted her caught him. "Maamaa." Katie cried again fighting frantically to free herself from his arms. Kitty stirred in her sleep. He thought for a moment she would wake up. He clampedhis hand over his daughter's mouth. "No Katie." He whispered in her ear. "Mama's sleeping." Taking one last glance at Kitty he turned to carry Katie to the back yard and Kitty's roses. The baby fought his hold, her cries for "Maamaa" turning into wails of hard as she struggled the tighter he held. He whispered words topacify. "It's all right Katie. I'm here. I love you. Katie, it'salright." Eventually his words calmed her and her spent bodysurrendered. He carried her to the back porch swing and sat down with her in his arms. A little sob escaped her lips as she uttered one last time, "Mama." The gentle motion of the swing lulled their frazzled nerves. Katie stuck her thumb in her mouth, while Matt rubbed his cheek against the soft red curls and inhaled the sweet baby scent of her. Father and daughter both thinking of the woman they had been denied.

Matt whispered so low, Katie may not have heard him, "Someday we'll be a family." As he made the vow, Kitty's words came back to haunt him. She had said "Someday, some far off someday..."

He pulled Katie tighter to him.

They kept their voices hushed as they talked across the wooden tablein the corner of the bunkhouse. Seamus leaned over and filled Matt's glass with a little more of his prized Irish whiskey.

"Tis little doubt it was Hoppe . . ." Seamus agreed. "What do we be doing now, I'd like to know, how do we fight that kind of devil?" He looked at Johnny who was asleep for now. His glass of whiskey half empty sat on the floor beside his bunk. Molly's bleached white bandages a sharp contrast to his trail dirtied body. From time to time the quiet of the room was disturbed by the young man's snores. "That lad hasn't an ounce of mean in him, what could he ever do to deserve a bullet hole in him?"

Matt shook his head, "I don't think he was aiming for Johnny. I think it was me he was after. Hoppe knew I had been riding the bay the day before; he made a point to comment on it. From a distance Johnny and I might be confused."

"That does make a might more sense. It's easy looking at you Matthew Smith, that you could be a bit more trouble to Scharpf's plans than the boy ever could." Seamus took another drink of the whiskey. He winced at the bite of it. He looked at the man sitting opposite him. "Matthew, I got me an idea there is more to your being here than you've let on. Now, do you want to tell me about it?"

Dillon looked at the glass he held in his hand. He swirled the liquid around, stalling, unsure of how much to tell Mulgrew.

"Not much gets by you does it Seamus?" Matt finally responded with ahint of a smile on his face. "My name is Matt Dillon, I've been a US Marshal for the past twenty years. I knew Mrs. Stambridge before she met her husband."

"I figured as much about you Matthew, I knew you were a man to bereckoned with. Then it must have been Doc Bill who called you here?"

Matt nodded. Seamus studied the man a bit more. "I'll not be asking more of you Matthew, but if you feel the need to talk, I be a man who can listen."

It took Matt Dillon a moment before he answered. "I know that Seamus and I thank you."

Whether it was the peace, which drew him to the river that night, or the hope she, like he might return to the water's edge, he never could say for sure, even when he thought of it years later. He just knew an inexplicable force called him to return to the place where he'd last held her in his arms. A warm summer breeze rustled the leaves as the water flowed downstream with a pulsating rhythm. He walked to the grassy bank leaning against an aspen. The reflection of a thousand stars bounced from the river's surface like random points of light. A spotted owl in a neighboring tree announced his arrival, "oot, oot, oot, oooo." He took a deep breath, inhaling the heady scent of blue spruce and white fir. A pair of young rabbits scampered near; when they saw he was there they darted for cover.

The light trod of footsteps against the trail caught his attention and he turned his head to look. His pulse quickened at the sight of her. She moved right past him to the river's edge.

"Hello." he said, his voice husky at the sight of her.

She jumped in surprise, and lost her footing. Had it not been for his quick actions she would have fallen into the river. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back to safe ground. This time he didn't let go of her and she didn't struggle to be set free, but turned in his arms so that she was enfolded in his embrace. Unlike any moment in her memory this was akin to coming home. She rested her head against his chest listening to the steady beat of his heart, moving with the rise and fall of each breath he took until his breathing became like her own. She remained still, absorbing his essence, while her tremulous senses became alive with the knowledge of him. She inhaled his intoxicating scent, triggering once forgotten shadows, laced in erotic sweetness, clamoring for fulfillment. Warmth invaded the secret regions of her body.

With ragged breath, he held her away from him. His fingers trailed across her shoulders down her arms to capture her hands in his - brought them to his lips savoring each fingertip. A moan from deep within worked its way from her throat. And his lips forgetting her fingers sought out the origin of the sound. If it was she who released the sash of the robe or he, it mattered not, for it was both who desired the barrier to be gone. His hands came in contact with the fabric of the silky gown underneath, teasing his sanity and her own as they molded to the contours of her flesh. Finally, slipping the robe from her shoulders he spread it out on the grassy bank. With her hand in his he gently pulled her down to lie beside him. He became like a blind man in the moonless night. His hands exploring what his eyes could not see. His memory became hers and she found he knew her better than she did herself. She trembled in his arms when their bodies joined. A cadence as old as life itself took control of their movements, like a whirlpool, spinning, spiraling deeper, tighter, demanding its due. Urgency surged from him to her and backagain, infusing them from core to limb until the rapture was met and their only reality was the one of the other. Waves of pleasure rocked the entwined lovers as the waves of Yellow River beat against the shore. This was a union so perfect that tears of joy slipped from her eyes.

When passion had been spent, they lay bound by the memory of their coming together.

"We've been like this before haven't we?" She asked.

His hand reached to push a wayward lock of hair from herforehead. `Um hmm." He replied with a smile.

"Many times?" She questioned.

"Um hmm" he answered, bestowing upon her forehead a gentle kiss.

"Was it always like this?" She wondered.

"Always." He replied, "always."


	4. Chapter 4

Kitty sat in the old rocking chair that rested in the corner of her bedroom. She was only vaguely aware of the morning smells coming from the kitchen. Her mind was occupied on other matters. She trailed her fingers over her bruised lips lighting tracing the outline, remembering his passionate kisses, and her equally passionate response. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, lost in the memory -before giving herself a mental shake. This was crazy. She forced herself to take a calming breath. What had she been thinking last night? Dr Bill had warned her about people recovering from head injuries. He'd said the trauma to the brain tended to make them less apt to give proper thoughts to their actions and subject to emotional outbursts, well she had certainly had an emotional outburst lastnight … one might even say and emotional cataclysm. She was a widowof less than a month and she had made a fool of herself with the cowboy. What kind of woman was she? What kind of woman had she been? Yet, even as she reprimanded herself, she felt her body rocked by gentle aftershocks of his ardor.

A smile slipped across her face and her eyes turned dewy at the thought. She would have been content to stay in his arms forever, but signs of the sun's rising had brought him to reality.

"We've got to get you up to the house before you're missed." He'd said.

He had stood and righted his clothing before offering her his hand. She straightened her gown and adjusted the straps, while he reached down to retrieve the robe. He shook out the leaves and then placed it around her shoulders. His movements were gentle and sweet and reached to her heart if not her memory.

"Wait." She had said, when he took her hand to lead the path to the ranch house."What is it?" He'd asked.

"You have to tell me. How do I know you? Who are you to me?"

"Let's just say, I'm an old friend."

"That's not much of an answer cowboy."

"Look Kitty, we'll talk about all of this later, right now you need your sleep." She thought of the way he had said her name, making it sound as sweet as any words of love.

She curled her legs up underneath her and the rocking chair squeaked at the movement. It was a familiar sound; one she knew must have a meaning. She ran her hand on the arm of the chair, which was satiny smooth, not with a fine finish, but with wear. The chair was out of place in this room, with its fashionably elegant furniture. But she knew this well-worn chair held far more sentiment, than any otherpiece of furniture in her home.

She drifted back to his words, "old friend." What kind offriendship involved lovemaking like that? She folded her hands and rested her forehead upon them. `Rational thought' she ordered herself. He had walked her up to the house and kissed her again on the steps to the front porch, his hands hadn't been able to leave her body alone. She'd felt herself melting past the point of resolve once more, and it was he who pulled back. He had reached out to finger a red curl, and then paused to study her face. She'd already learned this cowboy spoke volumes with his eyes. "Better get yourself some sleep." Then, he was gone.

She moved her hand to her breast. Her heart was beating faster just in the remembrance of his touch.

Matt Dillon sat on the back steps of the bunkhouse watching as the last of the stars faded from the sky. Gimp, the bunkhouse mouserlimped by. The cat stopped to rub his head on Matt's leg. Looking up, he voiced a loud "meow." Matt reached down and scratched the cat's battle scared ears. Gimp started to purr, and then jumped up to sit on Dillon's knee. There was something comforting about the connection with another living creature. Matt felt the vibrations of the cat's purrs as they rumbled through the animal's body. It was arelaxing feeling. Right now he needed relaxing. He smiled at himself. After last night, he should be very relaxed more relaxed than he'd been in two years. He thought of a fancy meal he'd had with Kitty in St. Louis years ago. They had served dainty little morsels of food. Matt had been hungry, and the tiny scrap hadn't been nearly enough to satisfy his needs. Kitty had explained that it was called an "appetizer" there would be more food coming. He had scowled and said, "There better be." Last night was like that appetizer; it had only whetted his appetite for more. After a two-year famine, his heart and soul were starving for her.

He stopped petting the cat, and the purring stopped. How could he have let last night happen? Dr. Tucker had warned him not to rush things. Yet, when he'd had her in his arms he couldn't let her go,especially when it was so obvious that she wanted and needed him just as much. It had just felt so good to be complete again, almost as if he had found his lost soul. He resumed petting the cat. A part of him had reasoned before ardor took all reasoning away that passion might be the key to her memory. That hadn't been the case for when all was said and done she appeared more confused than ever. He scowled; he felt like a louse, he had only added to her bewilderment. He gently tossed the cat to the ground and ran a hand past his eyes, realizing how tired he was. He hadn't gotten much sleep. Molly would have breakfast on the table soon and Seamus would have a days worth of chores lined up. He pushed himself to his feetand headed back inside the bunkhouse.

Johnny was restless; although he was sleeping, he tossed and turned. Matt sat down on the bunk next to him and put his hand on the boy's brow, it was as he suspected, fevered. He poured a glass of water and returned to Johnny's side.

"Johnny, wake up." Dillon said, gently rocking the boy. When his eyes opened, Matt said, "Here, drink this, you have a fever. You need to drink plenty of water." Johnny looked at Matt with cloudy eyes. His face shiny with perspiration. He reached for the glass with a shaky hand. Matt kept an eye on him until the glass was empty, " You lay back and rest now. I'll be back with some of Miss Molly's medicine or maybe Miss Molly herself!"

Matt took a clean shirt and headed for the pump. Once there he glanced at Kitty's window wondering if she were in bed sleeping. He let that image fill his mind. He worked the handle of the pump until the stream of cold water began to flow. He stuck his head directly in the water hoping to cool his thoughts.

The smell of breakfast in the making filled the kitchen and seeped to the back porch. Molly turned at the familiar squeak of the screen door opening.

"G'day to you Mr. Smith. Would you be in the mood for pancakes and ham this morning."

"Sounds good, but I think you might want to check on Johnny, he's not doing so well. He felt warm to me."

Seamus had just entered the room from their bedroom adjacent to the kitchen. He narrowed his eyes at Matt, while a frown wrinkled hisbrow.

"I'd best go down and check on him. Seamus my dear, could you be keeping an eye on the pancakes?"

Seamus took the spatula from her hand, " You go check on the boy, the pancakes are in good hands."

Matt looked around the kitchen. "Where's Katie." he asked.

"She is sleeping yet, Matthew."

Matt nodded his head and looked for something to keep himself busy, he was getting a strong feeling that Seamus was not happy with him. The plates and silverware were sitting on the counter and he picked these up and started to set the table.

"Matthew, I was needing to get up in the early morning hours when I heard someone on the porch. I went to investigate. I think you beknowing what I found."

Dillon didn't say a word. So Seamus continued. "I don't be knowing what you were to Mrs. Stambridge." he put the emphasis on the word _Mrs_. "But the dear lady has been through a lot in this last year. She 's vulnerable right now, it wouldn't be fittin' for a man to take advantage of a woman in those circumstances." Seamus paused, still waiting for Dillon to say something, finally his voice rose in volume showing his annoyance. "Do you be knowing what I'm a saying to you Matthew?"

Seamus's words echoed the thoughts that had gone through his head since he had left Kitty on the front porch last night. Dillon nodded his head, and walked to the open window.

Seamus continued. "She don't know who she herself is, she has a little one she needs to be learning about. That wee one is going to be needing all of her time. . poor little fatherless thing."

"Seamus." Matt took a deep breath and turned around to face Mulgrew, "Katie is my child." Seamus looked at him with a confused expression on his face. Matt attempted to clarify hisstatement. "I'm her father."

For Matt Dillon, it was a relief to finally voice those words to another living person. Seamus Mulgrew stared at him, his mouth wide open his spatula poised in mid-air. The Irishman was for once at a complete loss for words.

"Seamus! The pancakes are burning." Matt said. Mulgrew turned to the stove and slid the pan off the burner.

"Matthew, I think you'd best be explaining yourself." He motioned tothe table and both men sat down.

"Kitty owned the Long Branch Saloon in Dodge City, Kansas, where I was the Marshal."

"You and she were close?" Seamus asked, and Matt nodded.

"But, you never married her." Mulgrew questioned.

"How could I? I never knew from one day to the next if I would still be alive."

"Was that enough for her?"

Matt winced, "No, she wanted more, but she knew how things had to be. Will Stambridge came to town and offered her everything I couldn't. She asked me to tell her to say `no' to Stambridge and I wouldn't. That was two years ago. Katie is eighteen months old."

"She never told you about the wee one?" Seamus asked.

Matt glanced toward the back staircase. "If she had told me, I would never have let her go." He pushed the chair back and stood, the sound hollow in the stillness of the room.

"I have to be asking this, and then I won't be asking no more."Seamus said, he paused waiting for his eyes to lock with Dillon's, "Do you love her?"

"Yes." He answered simply.

Molly's hurried footsteps could be heard on the wooden porch. Shewas speaking before she opened the door. "I think some one best be fetching Doc Bill for Johnny."

"I'll get him." Matt volunteered. He was glad for the excuse to get away from any more of Seamus Mulgrew's questions. He had told him far more than he had intended. He couldn't help but feel the weight of Mulgrew's judgment as he had asked that last question.

Billy, the knuckle headed horse had found his way home toward dusk the night before. He was standing in the corral with several other riding horses. The gelding gave a friendly whinny in shook his head at the bay. "I don't think so Sweet Billy."

He chose instead, a large black gelding that according to Johnny had belonged to Will. Matt felt a sense of justification in taking something that had belonged to the dead man.

He was only a few miles outside of town when he saw Hoppe and his men riding toward him. They blocked the road so that he was forced to stop.

"Didn't expect to see you Mr. Smith." Hoppe said while casting a side long glance at the stocky cowboy to his left.

"Don't expect you did." Dillon replied dryly.

"Looks like you moved up to a better class of horse flesh. Ain't that Stambridge's horse you're a settin' on?"

"Don't see that's any concern of yours. I got business in town, move aside."

"I don't think so Smith, in fact, I'm thinking it might be a good idea to show you who the boss is in these parts."

The road to town dropped to a deep gully on one side and rose to asteep bank on the other. Dillon turned the black's head and spurred him up the grassy embankment and around the Double Bar X hands.

He was clear and back on the road, when he heard the whir of a rope, seconds later he felt the lasso as it encircled his body, pulling him from the saddle with a jerk. He hit the ground hard. It stunned him and before he was able to get to his feet one of Hoppe's men was on him. Matt struggled, twisting and turning his body. His arms were bound to his sides by the lasso, but his legs were free and he kicked the man sending him doubled over in agony to the ground.

It became an unfair battle as three of Hoppe's men replaced the one. He felt a booted kick to the side of his skull. He had a fleeting image of Hoppe still on his horse; the rope that bound him still attached to the saddle horn.

Dillon lost track of time and the number of blows that connected with his body. When consciousness was almost lost he became aware of Harland Scharpf standing over him.

"And now, Mr. Smith, you know who the boss is. Throw him down the hill boys." He was aware of his arms and legs being roughly grabbed as his body was tossed down the gully. He rolled over and over until he finally came to an abrupt and painful stop against a large rock.

There was a steady rain falling as he surfaced slowly back toconsciousness.

He lay still for a long moment trying to remember the circumstances that lead to his laying in the rain soaked ravine. The image ofScharpf's sneering smile brought the whole picture back into perspective. He tried to figure how long he had been there. It was hard to judge the time by the cloudy sky. Very slowly he tested his limbs, taking inventory of injuries as he moved. He had a throbbing that originated at the side of his head and spread around his skulllike a barbwire band that was being slowly tightened. Matt rolled onto his belly; slowly he brought himself to his knees and leaned against the boulder. The shooting pain in his rib cage, made itclear where his greatest injury was. He rested his head against the large stone as he waited for the world to stop spinning before his eyes. When it had, he struggled to stand. He stood on unsteady feet looking up the embankment to the road. His footsteps reminded him of Katie's as he slowly started the climb up the hill. The grass was slippery and his footing precarious, causing him to slip and fall several times before he reached the top.

He gave a sigh of relief when he spotted the black gelding grazing,about a hundred yards down the road. He whistled in the same manner he used to call Buck. Black's ears pricked forward and he turned hishead in the direction of the noise. Matt whistled again and this time the horse made a move toward him. He paused, his ears twitched and then he trotted to Dillon.

Things were looking up Matt thought as he leaned against the horse trying to summon the courage to climb onto the saddle. Finally,gritting his teeth he grabbed the pummel and heaved himself up. His head and stomach were reeling and he held tight to the saddle horn fighting to keep his consciousness, but waves of midnight threatened fought against him. Leaning forward he rested his head against the black gelding's neck. The thought of a drink of water from his canteen tempted him, but he knew that effort would cost him dearly.

The trip to town seemed endless but by sheer force of will he stayed in the saddle. This wasn't the first time he had been beaten up and he was sure it wouldn't be the last. He had a pretty good idea just how far he could push his body. He knew he was about at his limit and was thankful when he finally saw the doctor's red house on the edge of town.

"Tucker!" he called, mustering what lungpower he could. "Tucker!"He called a second time. The door opened and Mrs. Tucker appeared. "Oh my! Marshal Dillon,what ever happened to you?" She ran from the porch to the black gelding.

"Ma'am." Dillon said, his teeth clenched, "I'm going to need somehelp."

"The doctor is out on a call, I'm the only one around. You're just going to have to let me help you."

Matt mustered a ghost of a smile at the little woman. "Ma'am, no offence intended, but I don't think you're big enough." Even as he said it, he felt another wave of cold clammy darkness descend on him. He doubted he would make it to the door without passing out.

"My good man, I'm much stronger than I look. Now swing your leg over that horse so we can get you in the house." He slid from his saddleand very nearly fell in a heap, but the doctor's wife proved equal toher task. She supplied support until he could reach the porch where he grabbed onto the pillar.

Their progress was slow, with stops along the way for one or both ofthem to catch their breath, but finally they made it to the examination room where Dillon gratefully lay down on the surgery table. Mrs. Tucker made herself busy, taking bottles from the medicine cabinet, grabbing gauze bandages and setting a pot to boil on the small stove in the corner of the room.

Then she set about tending to his wounds. She had sure and careful hands, all the while talking in her pleasant voice giving the lawman something besides the pain to focus on. She had completed her job when the doctor came in.

"Mama, are you entertaining without me?" The doctor asked. His voice teasing but his eyes all business.

"Well yes Papa, the Marshal came to call and it just didn't seem hospitable not to invite him in."

The doctor had moved close to the examining table and was taking fullstock of his wife's work. "Looks like you did a fine job, Mama." Mrs. Tucker blushed at her husband's words of praise.

"I'll get a pot of tea going, I imagine we could all use a stout drink." She offered.

"Fine Mama." Tucker said to his wife, he watched her leave the room and then turned to Dillon. " I don't imagine I need to ask who was responsible for this."

Matt grimaced as he tried to raise himself on his elbow. "I was headed into town to get you."

"Someone sick at the ranch? Mrs. Stambridge?" Doc Bill asked with concern in his voice.

"Johnny took a bullet, it didn't look serious, but he's running afever."

Doc Bill stood up, "Well, I'd best take a ride out there, you're in good hands with Mama, when you've got your strength back a bit, there's a cot for you to sleep on, I'll be back in the morning."

"Doc! Be careful." Matt warned.

Tucker smiled. "Don't worry Marshal, Scharpf and his men need my skills as a doctor too often to let anything happen to me."

He left the room and Matt let his head fall back against the pillow, the last thing he was aware of before sleep took over, were the hushed voices of the Doctor and his wife.

Kitty had looked for him all that day. She had even wandered into the kitchen at breakfast time. Seamus had been the only one there,and he had left abruptly when he heard the sound of the baby crying in her upstairs room. The day had a gloomy quality to it, which only served to feed her increasingly dark mood. She had a million answerless questions running though her mind, most of them centered on the cowboy. More and more she had come to realize, he was a key to unlocking her memory.

The gloomy sky produced thunderstorms by mid-afternoon. Kitty had spent her time going through Will's desk, looking for clues, but there seemed to be none to find. The only items of moderate interest were several folders containing paperwork involved in running the ranch. Each folder was labeled. Her fingers flipped through the pile, noting the individual headings; Payroll, Herefords, AberdeenAngus, Long Branch, Receipts, Yellow River Mortgage. She sighed,with disappointment as nothing kindled even a spark of recognition. She pulled out the middle drawer, which was filled with various odds and ends, a hair ribbon, several paperclips, an ink bottle and a number of pens and way in the back a small picture case. She pulled this out and opened it up. It contained a smaller print of the one that rested on the mantle. She studied the image, looking deep into the face of the man. It was a handsome face, kind, but sad. It was that sadness that disturbed her. "Tear up the picture." This time she recognized the voice in her head. "It's our only chance athappiness, tear it up, rip him out of your heart."

Her hands were shaking as she listened to the voice. She stood up abruptly knocking the chair over in her effort to escape Will Stambridge's voice. For she knew it would tell her more than she was ready to hear.

She ran from the room to the front porch. The thunderstorm was in full force, the rumbles shaking the house as the lightning flashed around her. Her face became wet with rain as the water plastered hergown to her body. Her mind was alive with an image of herself tearing up photographs; she could visualize a half dozen of them. She heard Will's voice again and again. "It's our only chance at happiness, tear them up, rip him out of your heart forever."

Her mental vision had a nightmare-like reality to it, as she tried to focus on the face in the pictures. But try as she might she could not see the face. Finally the storm passed, and with it Will's voice. She sat down in the wicker rocker, her legs suddenly feeling too weak to hold her. Bright rays of sunshine beamed from behind the last of the rain clouds and the birds started singing. Kitty sat upright in the rocker, her hands tightly clasped, lest they start shaking again.

When enough time had passed for her to gain control of her emotions,she returned to her room and changed from the black dress to a blue skirt and white shirtwaist. She pinned a cameo to the neckline. She didn't fully understand why, but she knew she would not be wearing the mourning gown again for her husband.

She wondered about the cowboy that night, she hadn't seen him all day, nor had she seen much of anyone else. The whole house had been strangely quiet. Molly had brought her a tray for dinner, but she had seemed so busy and preoccupied that Kitty hadn't attempted a conversation. She felt restless and nervous. She didn't know exactly what she had expected of the cowboy, but at the very least she had thought he would seek her out. She remembered his words, he had promised some sort of explanation.

Sleep came in short spurts that night and finally she left the questionable comfort of the chaise lounge. Restless, she threw on a hooded cape and left the house. The sky was lightening with the first gray of daybreak, but the air was damp and misty as she walked downto the river's edge. He wasn't there and her disappointment was replaced by anger. "How dare he make love to her and then just ignore her." She scowled and then scolded herself for her irrational behavior. She finally walked back to the house.

"Miss Kitty." came a voice from the shadows of the porch.

"Seamus, what are you doing out here?'

"Do you be thinking it wise to go off by yourself in the night? There is many a danger for a woman alone."

She bristled at his words. "I'm a big girl, Seamus, I can take careof myself, I don't need you playing nursemaid to me." Tossing her head she turned to walk into the house.

Mulgrew narrowed his eyes at her, "Actually I was keeping my good eye peeled for Matthew. He should have been back from town hours ago now."

She had stopped in her tracks and turned to stare at him. "He went in to town, when, why?"

"Johnny and Matthew were ambushed day before last. Johnny's been nursing a bullet wound in the shoulder. Molly felt he was needing the doctor. I sent Matthew before breakfast yesterday."

"You don't suppose he's run off, like the rest of the hands do you?"It was a question that begged for a denial.

"I be thinking it more likely he ran into Hoppe and his men. Matthew is not a man to run from a fight."

A faint pink glow was spreading on the Eastern horizon. The gray of dawn was giving way to full sunrise. Like Seamus, she was staring down the lane trying to see what wasn't there. She felt an empty place in her heart.

"Tis a battle we're in Miss Kitty, don't be doubting that Matthew's on our side."

She sat down in the wicker chair beside him, at a loss for the words to express her thoughts. It had suddenly come to her that while she had been absorbed in her world of self-pity there was a desperate fight going on by those around her just to keep the ranch running from day to day.

"Seamus, I'd like to be more help around here."

He turned to look at her and then nodded his head with approval. "I'm thinking Molly could use your help. Might give her some time to be helping me with the chores."

They heard the sound of a buggy headed down the lane. Seamus stood to get a better look. "It's Doc Bill." he exclaimed.

They both ran down the steps and out to the lane meet him. "Looks like a welcoming committee." The doctor exclaimed as he pulled his horse to a stop in front of a hitching post.

"Matthew with you Doc Bill?" Seamus asked.

"He had a run in with Hoppe and the boys." She listened with her heart in her throat as Doc Bill explained what had happened to Matt.

They were by this time at the porch steps. "Will he be alright Doctor?" she asked anxiously as panic gripped her heart.

"I suspect that man has the constitution of an ox." The doctor's kind smile was plain even in the early morning light, he continued, "I imagine he'll be sore for awhile, but he should be good as new with a day or two of rest." He turned to Mulgrew, "Seamus, I'd best take a look at Johnny."

"I'll show you the way." Seamus replied and the two men headed down to the bunkhouse.

Kitty took a deep breath. She fought a strange compulsion to climb in the doctor's buggy and head for town to check on the cowboy. She gave herself a mental shake, forcing Matt Smith out of her head, for she had work to do, and she felt a renewed sense of purpose. Yellow River Ranch needed her. She went upstairs to dress for the day. She put on a pair of Will's work pants, and one of his blue workshirts, rolling up the sleeves. She pulled on a pair of worn ridingboots. Not bothering to put her hair up, she braided it, letting it fall down her back. Considering that enough time wasted on her looks she headed straight for the kitchen.

Molly emerged from her bedroom patting her hair in place; she was startled to see Kitty already preparing batter for the morning pancakes.

"Why Miss Kitty, there's no need for you to be working like that."

"Molly don't go telling me you don't need the help around here. I'm ashamed of myself for not doing more, but from now on I intend to do my fair share of the work."

Molly's smile acknowledged her thanks as much as her words, "I'd be grateful, I would for your help ma'am."

"I am the one who is grateful to both you and Seamus." Kitty replied sincerely.

"Molly!" Seamus hollered from the bunkhouse door.

"Men, always bellowing." Molly said to Kitty, she opened the screendoor and yelled. "What do you be wanting Seamus?"

"Doc Bill needs you down here."

Kitty smiled at Molly, "Go on Molly, I'll get breakfast ready for the table. Bring the men up when they're finished."

Molly cast a nervous glance up the back stairs, hoping that little Katie would sleep until she was able to get back to the house.

Kitty busied herself setting the table and putting the coffee on. She had just sat down to enjoy her first cup of coffee for the day, when she heard a strange racket coming from the upstairs. Taking one last gulp of the coffee she got up and went to investigate. The sound became louder as she reached the top. She peaked in the little room at the head of the stairs. The baby was sitting in her crib; she had a hand-carved horse that she was banging back and forth across the bars. Kitty chuckled as an image of a prisoner rattling his jail cell, flashed through her mind.

"Good morning." Kitty said to the little girl. Katie looked up. Her red hair was a tangled mess, and sleep crusted the corners of her eyes. But seeing the woman before her, her face lit up. Grabbing the crib rail she pulled herself to her feet. Her arms stretched out, her fingers reaching as far as they could.

"Ma-ma!" She cried.

In that moment the world stopped. Kitty froze. She stared into the face of her child and suddenly knew. "Katie." the word came out in avoiceless whisper. "Oh my Katie." The words came out in a tremble. Movement came back to her limbs as she rushed the short distance to the crib and wrapped her arms around her baby. "Oh Katie, Katie."The baby's arms wrapped around her mother's neck, her hand clutching Kitty's braid like a lifeline. "Ma-ma."

Kitty was only vaguely aware of sounds coming from the kitchen below; all of her attention was focused on the little girl in her arms, memories of Katie flooded her mind. She cooed the name softly and soothingly like some well remembered lullaby. "Katie, my Katie, mama 's here."

It was the smell of coffee that brought Matt back to consciousness. He made a move to shift position. His movement was opposed by pain and stiffness. He lay still for a moment until the ache passed. He moved again, but this time more cautiously. His hand cradled his ribcage as he swung his feet to the floor. He rested his arms on his legs and his head in his hands.

Mrs. Tucker stood at the door, balancing the tray while her ear rested against the door. She smiled in satisfaction as she heard the sound of movement within. She gave the door a light rap and then entered.

"Good morning Marshal Dillon, did you sleep well?" Her voice was as pleasant as summer sunshine.

Matt made an effort to sit up a bit straighter. He ran his hand through his rumpled hair.

"Thank you ma'am, whatever you gave me last night knocked me out."

"Sleep and rest are the best cure for what ails you." She said, "That and a good hearty breakfast." She set the tray of coffee on the nightstand beside his cot. "I'll let you get cleaned up, and when you're ready you can join me in the kitchen for breakfast." She motioned to the washstand. "I think you'll find everything you need in the cupboard. I washed your shirt and it's hanging on the line, should be dry by now. It's such a warm day." She smiled and left the room. Matt reached for the coffee and took a drink.

Mrs. Tucker hummed a favorite hymn as she took a pan of blueberry muffins out of the oven. Matt smiled at the sight of the pleasant little lady. She seemed to possess limitless energy and unfailing good humor. She would never be thought of as pretty, but she had a beauty to her that became more apparent the longer he knew her.

"Your shirt is hanging over the chair Marshal, it's fresh off the wash line; you just put that on and then sit down for a nice breakfast."

The shirt was still warm and a little stiff. He picked it up and raised it to his nose to breathe in its freshness. "It's been a longtime since this shirt has smelled so good, thank you Ma'am."

He was starving and finished everything she placed before him. She watched in satisfaction. "It does a woman's heart good to see someone eat her cooking like that."

"It tasted mighty fine, thank you ma'am."

She poured him another cup of coffee and then sat down at the table to join him. "Well Marshal, how are you enjoying ranch life?"

"It's hard work, but it does have its advantages over being a lawman."

Mrs. Tucker shook her head and clucked her tongue at him, "I don't know Mr. Dillon, looks like you're still getting shot at and beaten up."

Matt chuckled, "That's a fact."

"What's a fact?" Asked the doctor from the kitchen doorway.

Mrs. Tucker rose from her chair to scurry to her husband'sside. "Hello Dear." She greeted lovingly. The doctor leaned over to give his wife a quick peck on the cheek.

"How were things at the Stambridge's? Did they feed you?"

"No Mama, they didn't feed me, it was quite a morning though."

"Here, you sit down, I'll get you some coffee and breakfast and youcan tell us all about it."

The physician yawned and stretched his eyes. "If I can stay awakethat long." He looked at Dillon. "How are you feeling this morning?You don't look too bad, all things considered."

Matt smiled. "I'll live. How's Johnny?"

"His wound is infected, I wouldn't put it past those Double Bar X hands to have doctored up the bullet. I cleaned out the wound real good, and gave Molly medicine for it. I think he'll be fine."

Mrs. Tucker set a plate of scrambled eggs and ham in front of her husband, and sat down beside him. "What else happened?"

Tucker had a forkful of eggs raised to his mouth, but put it down untouched. He narrowed his eyes at Matt than glanced at his wife. He leaned forward on the table. "Mrs. Stambridge was in the kitchen while Molly and Seamus were down at the bunk house with me. Seems she decided she was feeling up to doing more at the ranch. The baby woke up and she went upstairs to check on her. Little Katie immediately recognized Miss Kitty and called her Mama. That was all it took. She remembered."

Matt's voice was eager and he couldn't hide it. "Everything?"

"No, not everything . . . she remembers her child. For now that is enough."

Matt tried to picture how happy Katie must have been to have her beloved Mama back. A vision of Kitty holding their daughter came to mind, the image forced him to swallow hard. The doctor continued. "We had just come up from the bunkhouse, expecting breakfast, but the kitchen was deserted. Molly, said `oh my goodness, the baby.' The three of us rushed up those stairs like a herd of heifers. Not very quietly mind you. There she was rocking in the rocking chair holding her baby and her baby holding her. The tears were just flowing from her eyes." He caught the sudden concern in Mrs. Tucker's face. "They were good tears Mama, happy tears."

The dear lady pulled a hanky from her pocket and wiped at her own happy tears. "Praise the Lord." She said.

"Yes my dear, maybe things are starting to look up for Kitty Stambridge."

Tucker yawned again and his wife said, "Alright for you Papa, there is a nice soft bed waiting for you. Can't have the doctor getting sick now can we?"

It wasn't until later in the day that Matt had an opportunity to talk again with Tucker about the situation at the ranch.

"As long as Scharpf feels he can bully people around he has the upperhand." Tucker stated.

"Won't anyone stand up to him?" Matt asked.

"Not after what happened to Will Stambridge, anything that Will had started soon disbanded after his death. People are just plain scared. They know there is nothing to stop Scharpf from doing exactly what he pleases. Lots of people have already moved out, knowing that it doesn't pay to fight him." Tucker got out his pipe and began loading it. "You're a Marshal, can't you do something?"

Matt shook his head, "I'm here as a private citizen; not as alawman. I'll tell you this I'm sure not going to back down from him. I think Stambridge had the right idea. Do you suppose I could find some of those good local farmers and ranchers at the Yellow River Saloon tonight?"

Doc Bill lit his pipe and took a long draw. "Good place to start. Might be I could persuade Mama to let me accompany you."

The two men walked down the boardwalk together. "This could be a mighty fine town, if it were given the chance to grow." Doc Bill commented.

They passed the general mercantile on their way to the saloon. Something in the store window caught Dillon's eye and pulled him back to take a closer look. A fuzzy toy bear sat in the corner of the display. He had a comically innocent expression on his face and glass eyes that seemed possessed with the ability to see. Matt thought immediately of Katie and her delight at having such a prize. The shopkeeper was at the door turning around the "open" sign to "closed". Matt rapped loudly on the window. The storekeeper pointed to his timepiece and shook his head. Not to be deterred when on a mission, Matt went to the door. The storekeeper seeing this customer wasn't about to be put off, gave in and unlocked the door.

"Howdy Doc Bill," he greeted. "What can I do for you gents is ah . . . closing time."

"Good evening Mr. Thompson." Doc Bill responded, giving a slight tip of his hat.

"Thanks for letting us in." Matt said, "I won't keep you long, I just wanted that toy bear in your window."

"The toy bear?" Thompson asked.

Dillon nodded.

The shopkeeper glanced at Doc Bill who only shrugged his shoulders and shook his head grinning broadly.

Thompson had to climb in the widow display to reach the little bear. He blew the dust from its fur then handed him to Dillon.

Matt examined the stuffed animal. "He's soft."

"Fur's made from mohair, this one was ordered from a catalogue out of St. Louis. Cost you $2.00, price is high, but it's the only one you're likely to find in these parts."

Matt didn't hesitate. "I'll take him, and how about a blue ribbon to tie around its neck?"

Mr. Thompson cut a length of ribbon and handed it to Matt. With the utmost care he tied the blue satin around the bear's neck. It took several tries before the bow met with his approval. Handing his money to the shopkeeper, Matt asked. "How much for the ribbon?"

Thompson chuckled. "The ribbon is on the house."

Matt turned to leave with the bear cradled in his arms. Doc Bill stopped him. "Ah Matt, don't you think you'd better have that thing wrapped up? I don't think we'd be able to drum up a lot of support among the local ranchers with you hanging onto your toy bear."

Matt had to chuckle at himself. "I guess it might soften our reputations."

The bear was bundled in brown paper wrapping. The two men thanked Mr. Thompson and headed for the saloon.


	5. Chapter 5

Matt stood at the batwing doors and scanned the room. Doc Bill at his side, pointed to three men lined up at the far end of the bar. "Those three are Scharpf's men, best steer clear of them. The fellows at the far table . . . the big one is Lou Oestreich, the smaller one Burt Krause. They run a spread real close to Stambridge land. I know Will had them talked into doing some fighting. When he died, the fight went out of them too."

"Let's see if we can put a little of it back in them?" Matt said as he pushed his way through the doors, his bear securely tucked under his arm.

A smoky haze hung over the saloon fueled by cheap cigars and hand rolled cigarettes. In the corner a piano player pounded out a spirited if somewhat imprecise rendition of _Buffalo Gals_. A friendly poker game was going on at a side table; its participants were elderly gents, each glad for a night away from his old lady. Brightly dressed saloon gals of undetermined ages, were hanging around the card game. They had learned to take advantage of the generosity of old men, who were grateful for the attention of a younger female. Matt briefly wondered if one was Johnny's girl, Ruby.

Dillon and Tucker made their way to the bar. "Two beers." Matt ordered. The bartender was a dour looking thin man. He drew the beers and deposited them in front of the two men. Foam slopped over the bar. Without a word he picked up Matt's coins and walked away. Matt raised his foot to rest on the boot rail and took a long drink. He made a point of looking directly at Hoppe's men - his eyes steel blue slits of daring.

These were the men who had attacked him. The persistent ache in his rib cage warned Dillon he wasn't in any shape for a fight. But he couldn't see any way around it either. The way he saw it, this might be his only chance to prove to Oestreich and Krause that you had to stand up to Scharpf's men even in the face of unfair odds.

The burly bearded man, who he had kicked in the groin looked up. He elbowed the cowboy next to him and said, "Well, looky who's here,George!"

George glanced up from his beer, quickly masking a surprised look on his face, "I figured you to still be siesta-ing in the ditch Smith."A slow grimace spread over his face. "I reckon we got us a little unfinished business boys. Mr. Hoppe, wouldn't look too kindly on us, if'n he saw we ain't properly do'in our job."

Doc Bill grabbed Matt's arm and whispered hoarsely. "Let's just get out of here, you're in no shape for this."Dillon shook head. Handing the wrapped bear to Tucker he said, "Heremwatch this, see that it gets to Katie if I can't."

Matt moved toward the Double Bar X men. "I figure I got some unfinished business of my own. This time I'll have the use of myarms. That is if you're men enough to fight fair." Matt didn't have to look to know that he had gained the attention of Krause and Oestreich; he could feel their eyes on him.

"You men take your fight out to the street, I don't need this place broke up again." The bartender ordered.

"Shut up, Harry! Or we'll do more than break up your damn bar." The skinny mustached cowboy ordered. The saloon girls left the poker players and fled up the center stairs in panic while the card players made a hasty retreat through the saloon's side door."You're some kind of fool Smith." The large one stated as he pulledback his right arm. Matt deflected the blow with his left arm as his right connected with his opponent's jaw, sending him reeling toward the wall. The skinny cowboy took his place and delivered a punch to Matt's iron hard gut. Dillon grabbed him by the collar tossing him on the bar, the force sending him sliding down its length as beer glasses flew in his wake. The third cowboy was on him, as he turned around, hitting him hard in the chest. Matt struggled for air, as a second blow connected with his injured ribs. Dillon grabbed the bar for support, unable to defend himself, while still another punch collided with his damaged side. The first cowboy had gained his feet by this time and was moving in on Matt ready to finish him off. Seeing the unfairness of the fight ignited a spark of courage in Lou Oestreich. He was suddenly sick and tired of Scharpf's men riding roughshod over an entire community. He couldn't stomach letting Scharpf or his men win again. He stood and moved up behind the cowhand with his near empty whiskey bottle raised. He brought it down with a force that sent the big man to the floor in a heap. Burt Krause got to his feet ready to join in the fight, and the two farmers took on the remaining Double Bar X hands. Tucker had moved to Matt's side helping him to a chair. Burt and Lou kept up the fight until they were the only ones standing. Their grins reached from ear to ear, as they shook each other's hand in congratulation.

Lou walked over to the table where Matt was seated. "Thanks" Matt said in a ragged voice.

"Gol dang! That felt good!" Lou exclaimed. "Scharpf and his men have been pushing us around for a mighty long time. I liked being the onedoing the pushing for a change. I reckon they're gonna be madder than a son of a gun when they come to, though." Burt joined his partner. Looking at Matt, he asked. "He gonna be alright Doc Bill?"

Tucker nodded. "They beat on him pretty good yesterday, almost finished him off today, but I think he'll be fine. You boys want to help me get him back to my place?"

"Sure thing Doc." Lou replied. Each man moved to a side and helped support Matt to his feet. Matt's legs felt made of jelly, and they wobbled as he walked. But he had accomplished what he had set out to do. He had put the fight back into Lou and Burt. Courage like cowardliness was infectious. They were almost to the door when Matt remembered the package. "Bill," he said, the effort causing him to wince from pain, "Katie's toy bear."

Kitty leaned on the kitchen table, resting her elbows on its surface,keeping a motherly eye and hand on Katie as she splashed in the washbasin. She was almost as wet as the little girl but she didn't care, there was only one thing which mattered, and that was Katie. She smiled as she thought about the remarkable day. Not that she had alot to compare it with, but this was the best day she ever remembered. Molly backed through the screen door with a wash basket propped against her hip. "I've brought you some line fresh towels Miss Kitty."

Taking a towel, Kitty draped it over her shoulder. She lifted the baby from the water, and wrapped her with the cloth. Katie snuggled, allowing herself to be held tightly. Molly studied the pair for a moment then said with a smile, "It does me heart good to be seeing the two of you together."

Kitty returned the smile. "Molly, do you think we could get Seamus to move Katie's crib into my room?"

"I'm thinking he'd be happy to do that." Moving to Kitty's side, Molly gave her a quick hug then turned to leave, but Kitty stopped her."Thanks for taking such good care of my baby, I owe you Molly."

Later, settled in her room with the baby-sleeping close beside her,Kitty set her mind to trying to fit together the missing pieces of her memory. Will Stambridge, Katie and Matt Smith, she knew these three people were the key elements in the mystery of her life. How did they fit together? She thought of the memory she had of Will's voice telling her to tear up photographs. She remembered being in Matt Smith's arms and the powerful force which seemed to always draw them together. The answer was obvious and it scared her. Matt Smith was the man in the pictures Will had ordered her to destroy!

Katie was restless in her crib and Kitty got up to comfort her. She rubbed the toddler's back. "Go to sleep Katie, Mama's here." The baby closed her eyes, and popped her thumb in her mouth. She thought back to Katie's first weeks, how tiny she had seemed and how helpless she had been.

How was it, Kitty Russell asked herself, she could remember so much about Katie but could remember nothing about her husband except his voice? She thought again of the photograph of Will. So many answers lay trapped within that photograph. She vowed one day soon she would summon the courage to ask the questions.

Seamus Mulgrew sat down hard on the bedroom chair pulling off his boots. First one and then the other hit the floor with a thud. He stood again and wearily unhooked his suspenders. He undid his britches and let them slide to the floor. He stood for a moment, too tired to step out of them.

He tiptoed to the bed and tried quietly to lie down, but the springs under the mattress squeaked in objection. He closed his eyes as his head hit the pillow. Molly inched closer to him and he raised his arm to draw her near.

"Where were you?" she whispered.

"I was down checking on Johnny one last time. He seemed to be doing better."

"That's good." Molly replied. She felt his chest rise and fall withan exhausted sigh. "I wonder how Matthew would be doing?"

A guilt that had been weighing heavy on his heart for the last few days resurfaced, sleep that had been so close was now impossibly faraway. "Molly, there's something I've been wanting to tell you."

"What?" She asked sleepily.

"Something Matthew told me the other morning."

"What is it my dear?" She prompted.

"He told me he and Miss Kitty were once very close." He put the emphasis on `very'.

He could hear the smile in her voice as she responded, "Oh Seamus!You'd be blind not to see that. It's in his eyes every time he looks at her."

I may as well come completely clean, he thought. "There be something… something about wee Katie."

This caught Molly's attention and she raised herself on an elbow. "What about Katie?" she asked.

Mulgrew stared at the ceiling as he answered, "Matthew said, he be Katie's father.

"She lay back down. Now she too was staring at the ceiling. "Oh my!" She said. "Oh my.

A pair of large black horsehair upholstered chairs dominated theTucker's front parlor. It was into one of these that Lou and Burt eased Matt. Krause stretched his spine, thankful to have his small frame relieved of the weight of the tall cowboy.

Oestreich grabbed himself a fancy parlor chair and set it close to Dillon, straddling it. "Heard Scharpf's men call you - Smith?"

"Matt Smith." Dillon replied while fighting a muscle spasm in hisback. "I'm helping out at the Stambridge place."

"You stood your ground right good, bet ya coulda licked em, ifn ya'dbeen healthy."

Matt leaned forward resting his forearms on his legs in an effort torelieve the pain. "The thing is, we did it together. I couldn'thave done it by myself, and neither could you, but together we beat them."

"Scharpf's man was right." Tucker told Matt the next morning, as he finished wrapping his ribs. "You are some kind of fool. I thinkwhat you said and did made an impression on Burt and Lou, though."

Matt slid off the exam table and reached for his shirt. He cringed at the effort to get his arms in the sleeves. Moving behind him,Tucker grabbed the shirt to help. "You know, you're in no shape to be riding back to the ranch. What if he's got his men waiting foryou again?"

Matt grabbed his gun belt from the back of a chair and buckled it around his waist. "That's just a chance I'll have to take."

Tucker gave his head an exasperated shake. "You're in that much of a hurry to get back to her?"

Matt looked in surprise at the bluntness of the doctor's question. "I am." He answered. "But it's more than that. Seamus needs me."

The black gelding had been saddled and was waiting at the fronthitching post. Dillon turned to leave. But the doctor offered somelast minute advice. "Don't rush her Matt. She's got to remember on her own. From what I saw the other day, she is feeling mighty confused about her life."

Matt grabbed his Stetson from the hook by the door. "I'll try to take it slow, Bill." He reached for the doorknob.

"Wait" Doc Bill said as Matt's hand made contact. Dillon paused while Tucker hurriedly left the room and returned seconds later with the brown paper package.

The doctor smiled as he handed the package to Matt. "You almost forgot your daughter's gift." The words and Tucker's knowledge caught Matt off guard, and a moment passed before he reached for thepackage with his left hand while offering his right in a firm handshake.

"Thanks." he said. Both men understood the depth of gratitude thatMatt offered.

The sight of the great white house looming on the horizon greeted him like coming home. The Yellow River rushing along side sent a surge of energy that propelled him to accelerate the black horse's pace.

His pulse quickened in anticipation. These few days away Kitty and the baby had seemed like a lifetime to him. As he neared the house he could make out her figure standing on the porch. She was wearing a white summer dress. Her hair must have been up, but the wind hadl oosened it from its constraints so that wispy strands blew acrossher face. Katie was in her arms, and he thought his heart would burst with the love he was feeling. He watched as Kitty lowered her head to say something to the toddler then lift her arm as she coached a wave. He couldn't stop the smile on his face. He hardly looked what he was doing as he dismounted and made his way up the eyes were only for his ladies.

"Good to have you home cowboy." Her voice was sweet and low and reminded him of the honeysuckle that scented the air.

"Good to be home." he said, and he thought he'd never spoken truer words. Katie in her mother's arms was being uncharacteristically quiet. "Hello, little Katie Kat." He said. She smiled at him and then hid her face in her mother's bosom. "You're not playing shy with me are you?" he asked. She peeked one eye from cover. "I'vebrought you a present." He tempted. Both eyes returned to view. He recovered the package from his saddlebag and handed it to his daughter.

"Oh, Mr. Smith you shouldn't have." Kitty said. But she set the child on the porch step so she could rip away at the wrapping. It took considerable effort on her part, and a lot of help from her mother but at last the bear was revealed. Katie squealed in delight as she hugged the furry creature to her.

Kitty sat on the front steps next to Katie while Matt leaned against the porch railing; he folded his arms across his chest and smiled. "Oh!" Kitty exclaimed. "He's just perfect."

Katie held the little bear in a tight embrace. "BOW-Bo." She said.

Seamus Mulgrew had watched the scene unfold from atop his horse. He had been riding in from the west pasture. His position had given him a perfect vantage point to view the family reunion. He pushed away a feeling of disloyalty to the memory of Will Stambridge. Now that he knew the truth, it all seemed so right to him. Matthew and Kitty belonged together. He rode past them unnoticed and on to the barn. Johnny was up and around, and keeping himself busy cleaning out stalls.

"I just saw Matt ride in." Johnny announced to Mulgrew."

I noticed." Seamus replied. He grabbed a bandana from his backpocket and wiped away the accumulation of sweat from his brow. A thought was coming to him. Johnny wasn't up to much work. From theway he moved Matthew wasn't either, and Lord knew he himself needed a wee bit of a rest. The morning chores had been taken care of.

"Johnny, what would ya say to us taking the afternoon off? Maybe you could do a bit of fishing; Miss Molly can pack a hamper full of food. Be good for all of us."

Johnny smiled. "Sure would beat what I'm doing now.

Molly had thought it a wonderful idea, the kitchen was like a furnace and the thought of spending her day there preparing and cleaning up after the meals didn't sound at all appealing. She filled the hamper with her freshly baked bread, leftover roast beef and a rhubarb pie she had baked that morning. As an afterthought she added a bottle of her homemade wine to make the whole occasion more festive.

They walked the path down to the river. Seamus and Molly lead theway with the picnic hamper swinging between them. Johnny walked behind them carrying the fishing poles. Kitty and Matt with Katie in his arms followed. They all felt lighthearted and a little bit sinful at the idea of taking an afternoon off. When Seamus broke into a song, they all joined in.

There was a gentle breeze blowing by the river that kept the sun from feeling too warm. With their stomachs filled they each sought their own form of relaxation. Seamus was dozing with his head pillowed in Molly's lap as she rested against a tree. She closed her eyes,enjoying the unexpected gift of a peaceful moment. Johnny was at the riverbank fishing and was having some success. "Fish for dinner." He had promised.

Kitty busied herself with cleaning up after the picnic while Matt chased after the baby. He finally grabbed Katie, swinging her atop his shoulders. The movement brought pain to his ribs, but he didn'tcare. It was worth it to hear her giggles. But in her excitement the bear fell from her arms. "Bow-bo!" She cried. Kitty laughed at the pair of them. "I'll get your Bow-bo." She said. She picked up the bear and held her arms out to Katie.

"I can take care of her now cowboy, better give those ribs of yours a rest."

But Katie protested. "No, no, no ... Bow-bo. Bow-bo." Her handspatted Matt's head. "BOW-bo."

Kitty looked a little surprised as it suddenly came to her. BOW-bo wasn't the bear it was the cowboy. She threw back her head and laughed. It was a sound Matt had longed to hear. "Oh Mr. Smith ...Matt! You're BOW-bo!"

"Huh?"

"She's trying to say Cow-boy!"

They decided to take a walk along the river's edge, both knowing he had promised to explain about their relationship. As they walked Katie's eyes grew heavy and she was soon asleep in Matt's arms.

"I need you to tell me about us." She took a deep breath mindful of Bill Tucker's warning. "We knew each other before you met Will Stambridge, in a town called Dodge City, Kansas. I was the Marshal, you owned the Long Branch Saloon."

She moistened her lips, hesitant to ask the question, but knowing she must. "We were … close?"

He nodded.

"How long?"

"Look Kitty, Doc Bill warned me not to tell you too much, he says youneed to remember on your own."

She had stopped walking and he stopped too. "Don't you understand? This is all making me crazy. I need to know more!"

He reached for her hand, while the other one supported their sleeping child. "Don't try to live in the past Kitty, for us the future is a much better place."

She couldn't help but respond when he looked at her like that, there was something familiar about the curve of his lips - something that reached to her core. She glanced at Katie still sleeping in his arms, and realized that her smile was his.

They walked on and he spoke of Doc Bill and his wife. He longed to tell her about their friends back in Dodge. He wanted to say remember when this happened or that. But he couldn't. They finally sat down in the shade of an aspen and watched as a family of ducks waddled their way down to the river. She rested her head against his shoulder, and they sat silent except for the beating of their hearts. All too soon it was time to return to the ranch. Therewere chores that needed doing before evening.

Katie was exhausted and Kitty didn't have the heart to put her through the ordeal of a bath. She laid her in the crib and went to get fresh bedclothes. When she returned Katie was asleep, her toybear tucked under her arm. Being careful not to waken her, Kitty moved the baby's arm and freed the soiled bear. His body showed the effects of the picnic and it took a while to brush away the dust and dried mud from his coat. The blue ribbon was soiled and frayed beyond repair. she removed it and put the bear back within Katie's grasp.

Kitty ran the blue ribbon through her fingers - the tactile sensation sending a message to her memory. An image flashed through her mind so swiftly she barely caught it. She was young. He was young. The prairie was fresh with spring and wildflowers. He had taken a blue ribbon from her hair and she had given him her heart. His name was Matt.

"Matt." She said aloud. "Matt." The time had come when Kitty could no longer hide from her past. Outside the night winds had picked up, gusts whistled through the fir and pine trees next to the house and caused a loose shutter to bang with an uneven beat against the siding. Inside, the house was dark and quiet. With her courage summoned, Kitty made her way to the study downstairs. She opened the door as quietly as she could, knowing Seamus and Molly were asleep,and padded softly to the desk. She lit the gas lamp; its flickering flame cast an eerie glow in the room. Her shadow loomed large as she walked to the mantle. Steeling herself with a fortifying breath, she took the picture in her hands and stared into the face of the man in the photograph. Always before she had heard Will's voice talking back to her from the grave, but not this time. The face was silent. She swore, "Damn it Will Stambridge! Talk to me. I've got to know."

The picture had lost its power. It was as if her dead husband stood at the doorway of her memory. Taunting her with just enough recall to frighten her away. Now that she was ready to see her past, he had slammed the door shut in her face. She was speaking to ghosts, "Don't do this to me Will, I can't have a future without understanding the past."

She carried Stambridge's photograph to the desk and sat down in the sturdy chair. She forced herself to recall Will'swords. "Tear up the pictures. Rip him out of your heart. It's our only chance at happiness." Slowly and with increasing clarity the story came to her mind as surely as turning the pages of a book. She closed her eyes and saw the photographs Will Stambridge was referring to. She saw her husband, his face red with emotion. In his hand he held the offending photos. "Why do you still have these?" He had questioned. "Why were you hiding them from me?" She had faced him, shoulders squared and chin jutting forward, "Give them back to me." Her hand reached for them, her voice indignant, "What were you doing looking through my private things?"

"I'm your husband. It's my right. I warned you what would happen if you didn't get rid of these on your own." There was hurt and pain in his voice, but something harder too. "I want you to destroy them."

"I won't, Katie has a right to know what her father looked like."

He spit out his words with venom, "Kitty you're a fool. Dillon never cared for you, you were just there to satisfy his needs. Destroy these pictures. Rip him out of your heart. Tear them up. "

"I can't." She admitted.

"You begged him to tell you to stay. He couldn't. He let you leave. What kind of man does that? Why can't you see, he never loved you? He never cared for you. He never offered you a home and family. Kitty, I love you! I have from the beginning. I want you to love me. I want this marriage to work. But it will never happen as long as Matt Dillon lays between us."

Her body shook with anger. "No. " Stambridge moved to her and pulled her into his arms, but her body remained rigid, unable to respond to his embrace.

"Don't you see?" He had grabbed her by the arms, the pressure of his grip increasing painfully. "It's our only chance at happiness, our only chance of being a family for your baby." His voice was pleading.

But she pulled defiantly from his hold."If our happiness depends on my destroying those pictures, then our marriage is already over.

"Rage replaced anger. He pulled back his arm and slapped her with his full strength. She staggered backward and fell against the desk. She looked up at him in shocked disbelief; he had never physically abused her before. " Do as I said." He ordered.

"No!" She countered.

He grabbed her roughly pulling her to her feet. He had lived hisl ife in violence and now it seemed the only option left to him. He slapped her again. She twisted in his arms in an attempt to escape the force of his blows. She made a desperate lunge to flee the room but he grabbed her. What she saw in his eyes terrified her. This wild man was not the person she had married. He was like a territorial animal, defending what was his, powerless of rational thought, driven by primal instinct and capable of the ultimate violence. There was no one to help her. They were alone in the house except for the young infant asleep in her cradle. It was the thoughtof her child that secured her defeat. Katie needed her.

"Wait! I'll do it." She said. He grabbed the photographs from the desktop and threw them at her. They scattered over the carpet. He moved back to give her room She lowered her body to the floor and started tearing the pictures. Her heart and spirit broke a little with each rip. When the last one had been destroyed he made a move toward her. The rage had left his body. "Kitty, I … I'm . . .sorry." She stared back at him with tearless eyes confirming her resignation. He backed away and then left the room.

She remained motionless for a moment after he was gone. Her trembling had stopped and she was left with only a cold feeling of abandonment. Using the desk she pulled herself to her feet and found an envelope from a drawer. Returning to the floor she carefully picked up all of the remnants and placed them inside.

Kitty opened her eyes, afraid once more to let the memory continue. She thought of Matt Smith and the night she had spent in his arns, what was it Will had said? "He used you to satisfy his needs." Was she a fool? Was Will right? She said his name aloud, though not much more than in a whisper. "Matthew Smith, Matthew . . . Matt … Matt Dillon." Suddenly her memories were coming so fast, that it was like an explosion of images in her brain. She ran from the room on stumbling feet, up the stairs tripping on her gown, it was only when she opened the door, that she made an effort to calm the wild pounding of her heart. She glanced at the sleeping baby on her way to the chaise lounge. The lamp on the table cast just a minimal amount of light. Falling to her knees next to the lounge, she reached her hand under the cushion. She inched her fingers forward until they made aconnection. She wrapped them around a thick paper packet, and pulled it out. She turned and sat leaning against the lounge and opened the envelope. Though dim, the lamp allowed enough light to make out the bits and pieces of the photographs. She picked one holding it to the light. Like a piece from a puzzle it only represented a portion of the whole. But the image of their hands clasped together, lovingly told enough of the story that she needed to see no more.


	6. Chapter 6

In the quiet of the dark room she sat, slowly rocking, as her memories returned. Now, the images came like the fragments of a kaleidoscope, swiftly changing in color and intensity.

They had walked, linked arm and arm across the street to the Long Branch. His smile had melted away any resolve she had to leave. How could she when he looked at her like that? They had taken a table in the back, not yet ready to be alone. Their emotions were still too raw to talk it out. For this moment just to be in each other's company was enough. She had signaled to Sam, who placed a bottle of her private stock and two glasses in front of them. Matt raised his glass in salute to Kitty, wanting to say something to erase the last few days from their memories. Like so many times before, words failed Matt Dillon. But, his smile and the look in his eyes made up for his lack of words.

"Matt?" she had asked. "How about dinner here tonight. Just you and I?"

His smile widened so that the corners of his eyes crinkled and their blue seemed to take on a deeper hue. She could see that he was thinking of the last dinner she had prepared for them. Her mind traveled back to join his in the memory of that near-perfect evening. The anticipation of the trip to St. Louis had filled them both with a delicious sense of freedom. As she had poured their after dinner drinks, he had marveled at her energy. "How do you do it?" He'd asked. "Packing for a trip and making dinner!" She had pointed out that most of their meal had been delivered from Delmonicos. Matt had gotten up from the table and walked to his coat. "Where are you going?" she had asked.

"Oh, I'm just getting something." He replied evasively, as he extracted a small blue box from his jacket pocket.

Her eyes had lit up in anticipation. Every year he had remembered, this small act of sentimentality making up for the year's worth of relative inattention. She understood how it had to be. Duty and the Badge came first. If there were times when those masters didn't call to him then she became his mistress.

The fates had proved friendly that night. Matt walked to her chair and knelt in front of it. He took her hand and placed the box in it. "Happy anniversary, honey." The seldom-used endearment brought an unexpected tear to her eyes. She opened the box with shaking hands. Of course some part of her always hoped when she received such a box from Matt, it would contain a ring. The fact that it never did, did not stop the hoping the next time he gave her a present. The necklace was lovely. He had placed it around her neck with surprisingly nimble fingers. Their lovemaking was a sweet celebration of their eighteen years together. Just before sleep took them, he had whispered. "I love you Kitty." The words so soft, they could have been part of a dream. But Kitty knew they were real.

Now they sat in the Long Branch, ready to start over again. It wasn't the first time they had to patch together their relationship, and it always seemed to grow stronger for the patching, as each understood the other more clearly in the end. She raised her glass in a return of his salute.

"Marshal Dillon!" a frantic voice called from the batwing doors. It was Bub Taylor. "We got us some big trouble over at Bull's, you'd best come."

"Sorry Kitty . . . " The words were inadequate he knew. "It's the job." With her glass still raised he got up and quickly left the saloon. Reality always a companion of Kitty's made itself known. This was how it would always be. Matt Dillon had told her he couldn't give up the badge, not even if it meant losing her. She would always be second best to the job. She thought of Will. He wanted her. She was more important to him than anything else in the world. She set the glass down, not wanting the drink, and maybe half afraid that if she started drinking she wouldn't stop. Without a word to anyone she went upstairs and started packing her bags. Then, she pulled out two large trunks from the upstairs storage room and filled these with the artifacts of her life in Dodge. When she had accomplished this task, she went to her writing desk and composed three letters. One to Sam requesting that he book her a ticket on the morning stage, as well as explaining that she was leaving Dodge. He was to look after things until he heard from her.

The next was to Doc. She knew explanations weren't necessary. Doc had always known her better than she herself, but he deserved to the courtesy of that acknowledgement.

The hardest letter to write was the one to Matt. She knew she could never stop loving him. But Will had opened a door to her; one she hadn't realized existed. This might be her only chance at a home and family, a chance at a normal life. Maybe, it was wanting the unattainable or perhaps, it was being halfway through her life with nothing to show but an accumulation of cameos, broaches and photographs. Could be, she was a fool, to throw away eighteen years, or maybe it was the fact her heart had been broken one too many times to be patched. The letter to Matt was short.

"Thanks for all the good years Matt. I will never forget you. But, I need more than you can give me. Please understand. Kitty."

She had sent Will a telegraph, asking him to meet her in Denver. He had been waiting at the stage depot with flowers in his hands when she arrived. When he spotted her, his smile revealed his happiness. She had offered only a swift kiss in greeting, already regretting the hastiness of her decision. He had seemed to sense her doubt and taken her hand in his with a reassuring squeeze.

There was an awkward moment when neither knew what to say. Finally he found his voice. "I've taken rooms for us at the Gold Dust Hotel. I imagine you're tired after your long trip."

Holding his hand tightly she smiled in response.

An adjoining door connected their rooms. Each night for that first week they had retired separately to their own quarters.

Will was a great talker, eager to share his hopes and dreams with the woman he loved. They explored the city together during the day and at night visited the fashionable theaters and opera houses that Denver was famous for. He seemed to take great pride in her beauty and delighted in showing her off, almost as if she were a trophy he had won.

It was after an evening of high entertainment and a bit too much champagne that Will's insistent goodnight kisses lead to more. He was an ardent and considerate lover. With practiced dexterity his hands and lips coaxed a response from her body. He offered words of love and promises of security that served as a balm to her broken heart. When they joined, her climax was but a gentle tremor. But for Will Stambridge it was an earthquake that would forever change the landscape of his life.

He had proposed marriage to her on her first night in Denver and every night thereafter. She had begged for time, but his answer had always been the same. "We've wasted enough time already."

In Will's arms with their bodies still linked, the afterglow of their lovemaking softening the harsh realities of the world she had left behind, he had asked again and she had said 'yes'.

She had awakened the next morning feeling unwell. As the morning passed she had become wretchedly sick to her stomach. Will watched helplessly. "I'm going for the doctor." He had finally stated."No. Will I'm all right, it must have been something that I ate last night." But when she had fainted, he had panicked and run for the nearest physician. Will had paced the floors of the adjoining room as the doctor made his examination.

The doctor's treatment of her body was rough, and she winced in pain and bit her lip to keep from crying out. But his examination was complete and his questions so thorough that it alarmed her. When he had finished, he had asked her what her relationship with Will had replied. "We are to be married."

"Then," said the doctor, "we had best call him in here. He needs to hear what I have to say."

She felt panic and an urge to run and more than anything she wished that Matt were there with her now. The doctor crossed the oriental carpet and opened the door to the adjoining room. "Mr. Stambridge, could you come in please?" he had asked.

Will walked uneasily through the door; his expression did little to hide the anxiety he was feeling. He went directly to her side taking her hand in his.

"Mr. Stambridge, this woman is expecting a child." Whatever the doctor had anticipated their reaction to be it was not the complete shocked silence he was met with. His lips had formed a thin line as he studied Will's face. "It would appear that she is entering her fourth month."

She pulled her hand free of Will's hold, to fly to her mouth. She thought she was going to be sick again and she frantically swallowed the bile that burned in her throat. She shook her head involuntarily back and forth. Her mind screaming the questions, `How could this be? After all these years . . . at her age. A miracle.' Her handmoved to her softly rounded belly. `Matt Dillon's baby.'

The doctor picked up his bag and took his hat from a nearby chair. "I advise you to get plenty of sleep Madam. I will send some medicine that should help with the nausea. I should like to see you in my office in three days time." He tipped his hat at the shocked couple and left.

Will got up and started walking around the room, his hands in his pockets a scowl on his face. It was obvious that he was in deep thought as his mind stretched to absorb the doctor's diagnosis. Then he turned back to her. There was a smile on his face as he said, "Kitty, it's all right. We've both wanted a family."

"But Will . . . " she had countered. "This is Matt's baby; you can't possibly want to raise another man's child. This wouldn't be fair to you, and Matt should know about this."

He moved to her kneeling next to the bed and taking her face between his hands. "The way I see it, what happened between us last night makes this my baby. Dillon had his chance. He threw you away Kitty." He leaned forward and gently brought her face to meet his and kissed her lips slowly. "As soon as you feel up to it, we will be married."

In two weeks time they were standing in front of a local minister, as she promised to "love, honor and obey." She'd been plagued by doubts and had told Will she knew she would never be able to love anyone as she did Matt Dillon. He had told her he was happy for whatever love she could give him. She pushed the fears from her mind. She needed someone to help her through this, and more than anything she needed the security that Will offered. She couldn't go back to Dodge, Matt had made his position clear, and she loved him too much to trap him in a marriage that he would later regret.

During the next few months the nausea and dizziness never seemed to go completely away. There were moments when her heart beat so fast and hard within her chest that she thought it would burst. Her ankles and legs became swollen, and at times her vision became so blurred that it was difficult to see. She was forced to spend much of her time in bed. She had heard the doctor speaking to Will, when they thought she was sleeping. "She is too old to be having a first child. I don't believe she can survive this pregnancy."

"The hell I won't." She had said. Surprising both Will and the doctor.

The task of selling the Long Branch fell to Will. He put ads in the major newspapers from St. Louis to San Francisco and was contacted by a woman named Hannah Ryan. While not able to buy the saloon outright she was able to make a considerable down payment, with the promise of monthly installments. Will sold the furniture with the saloon, all but her wooden rocker. "I'll be needing that rocking chair for the baby." She had explained to Will, not daring to tell him the meaning behind the rocker. So the rocking chair and the trunks she had packed before she left were placed in storage.

Her seventh and eighth month brought a relief from her symptoms and her usual good health returned. Living in the Gold Rush Hotel was expensive so they moved their belongings to a boarding house on the outskirts of town. They didn't have a great deal of wealth, but they figured between them they could afford a modest ranch. Their hopes were dashed again and again as the properties Will wanted to buy were more than their funds would allow. Will had learned of the Yellow River Ranch from the Denver Tribune. After listening to Will read the ad, Kitty had been skeptical. "I don't know Will, it sounds too good to be true." After two days of discussion Will decided that even though Kitty was entering her 9th month, he had to travel to Yellow River to inspect the property. If it proved to be everything the ad claimed he would make an offer and close on the property. While he was gone, she went into labor. She was alone with only a callous doctor to offer comfort. She longed for the kind gentle hands of Doc Adams. She wished desperately to be with someone who cared if she lived or died. She knew of women who had perished in childbirth and the doctor's earlier prediction weighed heavily on her mind. After hours of non-productive labor her grasp on reality faded. When the pain was at its peak, she would open her eyes and see Matt Dillon's face. It was his hand wiping the sweat from her brow and supporting her frame as the spasms of childbirth wracked her body. When the doctor placed the baby beside her, she marveled at such perfection. She was too weak to do more than look at her child. In her sleep the baby's lips curved in a sweet little smile. An exquisite pain pierced her broken heart as she realized that Matt's daughter had inherited his smile.

Will returned two weeks later. His excitement was focused on the ranch he had just purchased. "The price," he assured her, "is a true bargain. Of course I did have to take out a sizable mortgage at the Yellow River bank, but we can have that paid off within a few years." He had expressed concern for her rapid recovery. "I'd like to move within the month." He had taken only a brief look at the baby. "What should we name her Will?" She had asked. His words were like a slap. "That is your decision Kitty, she is your child."

She decided on the name Katherine. Will was agreeable thinking she had chosen the name as a variation of her own name Kathleen. In reality she had named the child after Matt's mother, Katherine Dillon.

The move to Yellow River Ranch came when Katie was six weeks old. The home itself proved a pleasant surprise. From Will's description she could only imagine it as a dilapidated monstrosity. The furnishings were of the best quality, and needed only a good polishing. The house needed paint and scrubbing both inside and out. But Kitty's sense of style easily imagined the possibilities the house held.

The trunks that had been in storage since she had left Dodge were now shipped to town along with the rocking chair. When word was sent to the ranch that her possessions had arrived she rode to town with Will to retrieve her belongings. She felt the excitement build within her as Will loaded the trunks and chair onto the wagon, securing them with rope. As he was putting the rocker on the wagon, he remarked. "What did you want this old piece of junk for Kitty? Breaking it up for firewood is too good for it."

She had learned over the months of their marriage to ignore his comments when connected to anything regarding her life Dodge. The trunks were moved to their room along with the chair. She felt like a child at Christmas as she opened the first trunk, it contained an old chipped blue willow coffee pot and 5 well used cups along with her fine crystal glassware, which she had purchased in New Orleans. She had carefully wrapped each piece with tissue paper. The second trunk was packed with many of her fancy dresses from the Long Branch. At the very bottom of the trunk were kept the keep sakes of her life with Matt. There should be more to show for eighteen years she thought, and then thinking of Katie realized there was. Wrapped with an old blue satin ribbon were a few letters, none spoke words of love, but all were written with love. A cameo lay encased in a velvet box, the image chosen by Matt because the features of the woman reminded him of Kitty. At the very bottom wrapped in a champagne colored negligee were six photographs. They represented five visits to St. Louis and one to New Orleans. Each one was precious because it told the story of their love. From the first picture when they were so incredibly young and so passionately in love to the last taken three years ago, were like the chapters from a favorite book. As she looked from one picture to the next, tears formed in her eyes and slipped down her cheeks. "Oh Matt." She had whispered. "What a fool I was."

She hadn't seen Stambridge standing in the doorway watching her,until he said. "Don't seem right for a married woman to have pictures of someone else. I think you'd better get rid of them, if you know what's best." His voice had startled her and she looked up to see his face set as hard as granite.

The baby in her cradle had started to cry. "Baby must be hungry." Stambridge stated. He turned and left the room. Kitty hurriedly replaced the items then got up to see to her child. She carried the infant to the rocking chair and sat down. She unbuttoned her gown and exposed her breast offering it to the infant. The rocking of the chair soothed both mother and child.

She leaned her head to rest against the strong back of the rocking chair. She closed her eyes remembering the day she had received the chair as a gift. It was a birthday present from Matt. It hadn't been an expensive gift, but it was large and solid and spoke of permanence. Their love had been young and his frequent trips out of town to chase outlaws seemed almost unbearable. She had learned early on to hide that pain, to pretend that it really didn't matter, but he knew.

Typically, duty and the badge had called him out of town on her birthday. He'd had the chair delivered to her room with a blue ribbon tied to its spokes. A note attached, written in his strong hand had said, "let the arms of this chair hold you and rock you when I'm not there." For Matt Dillon those words were profoundly romantic and she had cherished the simple message of the note.

The present intruded on her memories. Kitty's hands gripped the arms of the rocker as she pushed herself up. She walked over to the slumbering child. Katie, in her sleep, had found the bear again, and was holding it close. Kitty reached out a hand to lightly caress a wayward baby curl. In a voice so soft it was barely audible she asked, "Oh Katie, can I ever make things right?"

Sunlight danced across the crib, gently waking the sleeping baby. Katie released the thumb from her mouth to reach for the friendly beam. She was wet. Not only her diapers; she felt the moisture up to her armpits. Her nose wrinkled, she smelled bad too. The room was warm so the wetness was not entirely disagreeable. It had been a surprise, to wake up with her clothes on. She grabbed for her foot and began to work at the sock. It was a long sock and required all of her dexterity to pull off. Finally she freed her toes. She liked her toes, sucking them was almost as good as sucking her thumb. Not this morning, this morning she need something more substantial than thumb and toe sucking. She was hungry. She sat up and took stock of the room. It was still a new sensation waking up in her mother's room, and it gave her a good feeling. She remembered the bear and began a search through her bed covers. He was stuck between the slats of the crib. "No, no, no…" She scolded the toy in a mixture of baby babble and real words, as she pulled him clear. The force caused her to fall backward, hitting her head on the opposite side of the crib. It hurt, but she had the toy. She hugged the bear tightly and sucked on herthumb.

The sound of the baby's head hitting the crib startled the mother, who turned in her sleep trying to find a more comfortable position in the rocking chair. At the sound of the chair's familiar squeak Katie looked up. Grabbing the crib rails, she pulled herself to stand and saw Mama asleep in the rocking chair. A smile spread on her face and just as suddenly she remembered her sore head. She opened her mouth and let out a loud wail.

Kitty became fully awake. Her neck was stiff, from the awkward position in which she had slept. She felt so tired she could hardly move. She realized that last night's memories had drained her of energy and emotion. Pushing her hair away from her face, she got up and went to her child.

It was quite late by the time they came downstairs. The kitchen was deserted. Breakfast for the rest of the ranch had long since been over. Kitty scrambled an egg for Katie, while she herself just had coffee.

The memories were coming at a slower pace now, but each one seemed to bring a heavier burden to her heart. She couldn't escape the knowledge that she had used Will. The fact that Stambridge was awareof it didn't make her guilt any less of a weight to bear. Nor, could she escape the fact that she had given birth to Matt's child, without giving Dillon the opportunity to be a part of his child's life. She wondered how she could face Matt. Surely he would expect an answer for her actions. How could she explain the thoughts and circumstances so that they would make sense to him? Could she explain that at the time, what she had done seemed to be the right choice?

Katie had lost interest in the eggs, and now was dropping them on the floor. Her tin milk cup was the next to go. It clattered to the floor and brought Kitty back from her dark thoughts. She looked at her daughter who looked back and said with wide eyes, "aw gone."

Kitty smiled in spite of herself. Rising from her chair, she lifted the baby from her high chair and put her on the floor.

"Let's get this mess picked up little lady." She said. For Katie the picking up was almost as much fun as the messing up. Soon the eggs were all back on the plate. Kitty placed the dirty dishes next to the dry sink. Scooping Katie to ride on her hip, she went in search of the child's father. They met up with Molly on their way down to the bunkhouse.

"Why Miss Kitty, I was getting just a wee bit worried about you.""Sorry, Molly, we just slept a little late today. Would you mind looking after Katie this morning?"

Molly held her arms out to the toddler in reply. "I've been missing Katie's company these last few days."

"Thanks Molly. Have you seen Mr. Smith around?"

"He and Seamus were just riding out to the North pasture." She replied. "But if you hurry, you might catch them."

She nodded her thanks then turned to run down to the barn. It was too late; she could see his figure riding toward the horizon. She had to talk to him. Seamus came up behind her leading his strawberry roan. "Miss Kitty." He said and startled her. She jumped and turned around.

"Oh Seamus, you're not with Matt."

"Me cinch broke." He replied. "Had to get a new one." He tipped his hat back on his head to study her.

"I've got to talk with Matt. Please, Seamus, can I take your horse." Her eyes were begging.

"T'would only take a moment to saddle your mare." He answered, knowing that for now, whatever she had to say to Matt Smith was more important than any cows ever would be.

She cast a quick glance toward the horizon and Matt's disappearing figure. "Seamus, please your horse . . . "

"Let me adjust the stirrups for you." He offered.

"No time, Seamus, just give me a leg up."

He boosted her to the saddle, and she gathered the reins and urged the animal forward in one fluid motion. "She rides like an Injun."Mulgrew thought as he watched her race in the direction of the black gelding and his rider.

Matt heard her shouting his name and turned to see her riding toward him. He slid from his saddle to wait for her. She pulled the roan to a stop and jumped from the horse running the last few feet to his waiting arms.

"Kitty?" He questioned pulling her tighter into his embrace.

She was breathless, "Oh Matt, I'm sorry, I'm sorry . . . I was such a fool . . . made so many mistakes . . ."

The knowledge hit Dillon with an unexpected force, she remembered. "Shhh Kitty." He soothed. "We've both made mistakes . . . but we've been given a second chance."

She was weeping in his arms, in sorrow and in shame. Her body was shaking with the force of her sobs. He buried his face in her hair as tears burned his own eyes. He let her cry, perhaps understanding that she needed this release, this catharsis in order to get past the pain of their time apart.

They left the horses ground tied and walked the short distance to the riverbank, neither talking but communicating with a language that had always been theirs.

They sat, side by side, but distanced a little bit. She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them hiding her face in the fabric of her skirt. He wanted to reach out again to draw her close, but hesitated. They needed to talk; there were things they both needed to say.

"You remember?" he finally asked.

She raised her head to look at the river, and he studied the beauty of her profile. Slowly, she nodded her head. She bit her lip, her throat constricted and she didn't know if she could force the words out. She swallowed hard and said. "I remembered about us Matt. My leaving. There are still memories that are foggy, I can't remember what happened when Will and I were ambushed. Although I remember alot about Will and our time together." Just mentioning her husband's name brought the guilt she felt back. Her voice softened as she said, "If I hadn't married him, he might still be alive. He deserved more than I could give him Matt. . . . " She rested her forehead on her knees again and heaved a sigh.

He hated asking the question, but he had to know the answer. "You never loved him?"

She shook her head, biting her lip hard, and digging her nails into the palm of her hand fearing that she would lose control again.

Matt was trying hard to understand. "Why did you marry him?" he questioned. "Why did you stay with him?"

"He could give me all the things you never could . . . a home, a chance for a family." She kept her eyes averted, looking anywhere but his face. She could bear any pain, but the pain of seeing him look at her with anything but eyes of love.

There was a hurt in his voice that she hadn't heard before, "What about Katie, didn't you think that I had a right to know about her?" before she had a chance to answer he asked. "Did you know about her that day in my office?"

She held herself rigid, "I didn't find out until after I'd been with Will in Denver. I wanted to tell you as soon as I knew, but then I remembered that you chose the badge over me. How could I tell you after that?"

It was his turn to nod in reply, as he thought how much that conversation had cost him these last two years. "I didn't give you much choice did I?"

"You were always honest with me Matt. I always knew the way it had to be." She was twisting the wedding ring on her finger and it didn't go unnoticed by Dillon.

He moved closer and asked, "What about Stambridge?"

"It must have been hard for Will. He had so many dreams for this place and for us. Scharpf fought him at every bend. But he never gave up. Will had organized the neighbors against Scharpf. Despite all that went on between us, he was a good man at the heart of things, a man of courage, but I was so wrong in marrying him."

"Did he love you?"

"He said he loved me Matt, but I don't know. Sometimes I think he just loved the fact he had taken me away from you. It was like I was a prize he had won." She moved away and pushed herself to her feet. She walked closer to the river's edge, as if trying to draw strength from its current. "He seemed to take pleasure in reminding me that you didn't want me. That you had used me and then thrown me away."

Dillon rose to his feet. "Kitty, I always wanted you. But your staying or leaving had to be your decision, not mine."

"If I had stayed Matt, what then?"

He smiled. "You mean Katie?" And she nodded. "I would have been the happiest man in the world. I would have thrown the damn badge in the garbage."

"For Katie?" She felt an odd twinge of jealousy.

"For you." He was standing so close that she felt his breath stirring her hair. She turned slowly to look up into his face. He was smiling, his eyes bluer than the sky and brimming with unshed tears.

Her words came out like a familiar refrain, "Oh Matt." It was all he needed to hear, he pulled her into his arms.

Their tears had been shed, and the catharsis complete, the time for healing had begun. She drew in a long shaky breath. "Now what?" She asked, thinking she would be content to stay in his arms like this forever.

He tightened his hold of her. "We could pack up and leave Yellow River, say to hell with the whole thing. We could take our daughter and go home to Dodge."

She pulled away just a bit to look up into his face, wondering if he were serious. He moved his hand to lightly caress her cheek. "I know an old buzzard of a doctor, who'd love to meet Katie." He chuckled at the thought. "Can you picture those two together Kitty?"

"Festus too." She smiled as images of their friends played out in her mind. "They're going to love her. Oh Matt, I miss them!"

He relinquished his hold and instead took her hand leading her along the bank of the river, in the direction of the horses. "We could go home to Dodge, Kitty. But, I think we both know that our obligation is to Yellow River. If you'll let me, I'd like to stay and finish Will's fight. We can't have a life together until we've set things right."

"And then?" She asked.

"Then we will be together as a family, and it won't matter , Dodge City, anywhere, I don't care, as long as you and Katie are with me."

She stopped walking, refusing to budge even though his hand continued to pull. "Say it Matt Dillon."

He scowled at her, not understanding what she was getting at. She shook her head at him, only slight exasperation showing on her face. "Say the words Matt."

The scowl disappeared as a smile replaced it broadening. Without further preamble he dropped to one knee. He brought her hand to his lips turning it over so that he could kiss the palm. The sweetness of the sensation sent shivers through her body. Her words came out almost as a plea. "Say it."

His eyes caught hers, "Miss Kitty, will you marry me?"

"Oh yes!" She cried. "Yes!" She fell to her knees in front of him,knocking him off balance; together they tumbled to the softness of the river grass. "Yes!" She cried as their lips found each other.

Molly finished pouring the coffee and replaced the pot on the stove. "Anyone care for a bit more pie, before I sit down?" she asked.

Seamus shook his head, while Johnny replied, "Just one more small piece Miss Molly." They hadn't mentioned the two empty seats or those who usually occupied them. But they were on both Molly and Seamus' mind.

"Come on Katie my love, time for a wee nappie." Molly said as she lifted the baby from her chair.

Katie was just about to protest when the kitchen door opened and her parents appeared. They stood hand and hand. Their faces glowed with happiness.

"MaMaaa." The baby squealed, squirming in Molly's arms. Knowing better than to fight the child she set her down. Katie ran on toddler's feet to her father and mother. "Bow-bo!" She said, holding her arms up.

Matt Dillon smiled down at his small daughter. "I think we can come up with a better name for your Daddy than that, don't you?" He reached down to swing her into his arms. He turned his attention to Seamus, Molly and Johnny. There was joy in his voice as he said, "Kitty and I have something we'd like to tell you."

End of Part one


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